Poems

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Page 131 - HAVE ye ever heard, in the twilight dim, A low, soft strain, That ye fancied a distant vesper hymn, Borne o'er the plain By the zephyrs that rise on perfumed wing, When the sun's last glances are glimmering? Have ye heard that music, with cadence sweet, And merry peal, Ring out like the echoes of fairy feet, O'er flowers that steal? And did ye deem that each trembling tone Was the distant vesper-chime alone ? s 2 132 POEMS.
Page 179 - Than all the wreaths of fairy bower. I ask not, while I near thee dwell, Arabia's spice, or Syria's rose; Thy light festoons more freshly smell, Thy virgin white more freshly glows.
Page 132 - And gaily the trembling bells peal out, With gentle tongue, While elves and fairies career about, 'Mid dance and song: Oh ! roses and lilies are fair to see, But the wild Bluebell is the flower for me. And when, in far distant years, I meet Their...
Page 90 - Still keep him fast chain'd : we must have none here But vernal blasts, and gentle winds appear; Such as blow flowers, and through the glad boughs sing Many soft welcomes to the lusty spring : These are our music.
Page 180 - And the chained captive pined for death. On border fray, on feudal crime, I dream not while I gaze on thee ; The chieftains of that stern old time Could ne'er have loved a Jasmine-tree.
Page 45 - Not a tree, A plant, a leaf, a blossom, but contains a folio volume. Ye are the stars of earth — and dear to me Is each small twinkling gem that wanders free, 'Mid glade or woodland, or by murm'ring stream, For ye to me are more than sweet or fair, I love ye for the mem'ries that ye bear ; Or bygone hours, whose bliss was but a dream.
Page 168 - Oh ! come to the river's rim, come to us there, For the white water-lily is wondrous fair, With her large broad leaves on the stream afloat (Each one a capacious fairy-boat), The swan among FLOWERS ! how stately ride Her snow-white leaves on the rippling tide; And the dragon-fly gallantly stays to sip A kiss of dew from her goblet's lip : Oh ! come in the glow Of the long summer's day, When the cool waves flow, And the zephyrs play; Oh ! dwell not in cities, 'mid cark and care, But come to the river's...
Page 73 - Ivy, that stauncheat and firmest friend, That hastens its succouring arm to lend To the ruined fane where in youth it sprung, And its pliant tendrils in sport were flung. When the sinking buttress, and mouldering tower Seem only the spectres of former power Then the Ivy clusters round the wall, And for tapestry hangs in the moss-grown hall, Striving in beauty and youth to dress The desolate place in its loneliness.
Page 111 - The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou nearest the sound thereof, but ' canst not tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth : so is every one that is born of the Spirit.
Page 37 - I could not dream, — And yet a visionary band arose, 'Mid solemn music's thrilling swell and close, A silent, shadowy train : the taper's gleam Fitfully o'er monastic forms was shed, O'er mitre'd abbot, and the lengthened line Of dark-cowled monks, that bent around the shrine, Still, calm, and voiceless as the slumb'ring dead.

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