Songs of Many Seasons: 1862-1874

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James R. Osgood, 1875 - American poetry - 216 pages
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Page 11 - Dorothy's — all their own, — A goodly record for Time to show Of a syllable spoken so long ago ! — Shall I bless you, Dorothy, or forgive For the tender whisper that bade me live?
Page 11 - It shall be a blessing, my little maid ! 1 will heal the stab of the Red-Coat's blade, And freshen the gold of the tarnished frame, And gild with a rhyme your household name ; So you shall smile on us brave and bright As first you greeted the morning's light, And live untroubled by woes and fears Through a second youth of a hundred years.
Page 5 - ... morning dew, The lusty days of long ago, When you were Bill and I was Joe. Your name may flaunt a titled trail Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail, And mine as brief appendix wear As Tarn O'Shanter's luckless mare; To-day, old friend, remember still That I am Joe and you are Bill. You 've won the great world's envied prize, And grand you look in people's eyes, With HO N.
Page 110 - We call those poets who are first to mark Through earth's dull mist the coming of the dawn, — Who see in twilight's gloom the first pale spark, While others only note that day is gone; For him the Lord of light the curtain rent That veils the firmament. The greatest for its greatness is half known, Stretching beyond...
Page 9 - Look not on her with eyes of scorn,— Dorothy Q. was a lady born! Ay! since the galloping Normans came, England's annals have known her name; And still to the three-hilled rebel town Dear is that ancient name's renown, For many a civic wreath they won, The youthful sire and the gray-haired son.
Page 9 - Such is the tale the lady old, Dorothy's daughter's daughter, told. Who the painter was none may tell, — One whose best was not over well; Hard and dry, it must be confessed, Flat as a rose that has long been pressed; Yet in her cheek the hues are bright, Dainty colors of red and white, And in her slender shape are seen Hint and promise of stately mien.
Page 193 - For all the blessings life has brought, For all its sorrowing hours have taught, For all we mourn, for all we keep, The hands we clasp, the loved that sleep...
Page 166 - FAST as the rolling seasons bring The hour of fate to those we love, Each pearl that leaves the broken string Is set in Friendship's crown above. As narrower grows the earthly chain, The circle widens in the sky ; These are our treasures that remain, But those are stars that beam on high.
Page 7 - Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame ? A fitful tongue of leaping flame; A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust, That lifts a pinch of mortal dust; A few swift years, and who can show • Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe?
Page 164 - Joyous we meet, on this altar of thine Mingling the gifts we have gathered for thee, Sweet with the odors of myrtle and pine, Breeze of the prairie and breath of the sea, — Meadow and mountain and forest and sea ! Sweet is the fragrance of myrtle and pine, Sweeter the incense we offer to thee, Brothers once more round this altar of thine...

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