Poetical Remains of the Late Lucretia Maria Davidson

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Lea and Blanchard, 1841 - 312 pages
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Page 159 - And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.
Page 89 - In these poems," (" Amir Khan," &.c.) " there is enough of originality, enough of aspiration, enough of conscious energy, enough of growing power, to warrant any expectations, however sanguine, which the patrons, and the friends and parents, of the deceased, could have formed.
Page 186 - And Abraham gat up early in the morning to the place where he stood before the LORD : and he looked toward Sodom and Gomorrah, and toward all the land of the plain, and beheld, and, lo, the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace.
Page 58 - T were almost sacrilege to sing Those notes amid the glare of day; Notes borne by angel's purest wing, And wafted by their breath away. When sleeping in my grass-grown bed, Should'st thou still linger here above, Wilt thou not kneel beside my head, And, sister, sing the song I love ? " We insert here a striking circumstance that occurred during a visit she made to her sister the following year.
Page 89 - This statement does not comprise the large proportion (at least one third of the whole) which she destroyed. The genius of Lucretia Davidson has had the meed of far more authoritative praise than ours. The following tribute is from the London " Quarterly Review " ; a source whence praise of American productions is as rare as springs in the desert. The notice is by Mr. Southey, and is written with the earnest feeling, that characterizes that author, as generous as he is discriminating. " In these...
Page 201 - In short, at a highly extravagant price, The bachelors all were sold off in a trice : And forty old maidens, some younger, some older, Each lugged...
Page 227 - It is a dark, a fearful thing; It steals along with withering tread, Or sweeps on wild destruction's wing. That thought comes o'er me in the hour Of grief, of sickness, or of sadness; 'Tis not the dread of death — 'tis more, It is the dread of madness.
Page 201 - That a tax on old bachelors' pates should be laid ; And in order to make them all willing to marry, The tax was as large as a man could well carry, The bachelors grumbled and said 'twas no use — 'Twas...
Page 79 - In her next letter she details a conversation with Mrs. Willard, full of kind commendation and good counsel. " Mamma," she concludes, " you would be justified in thinking me a perfect lump of vanity and egotism; but I have always related to you every thought, every action, of my life. I have had no concealments from you, and I have stated these matters to you because they fill me with surprise. Who would think the accomplished Mrs. Willard would admire my poor daubing, or my poor any thing else !...
Page 52 - " And may Religion, Heaven's own darling child, Teach thee at human cares and griefs to smile ; Teach thee to look beyond this world of woe, To Heaven's high fount, whence mercies ever flow. "And when this vale of years is safely passed, When death's dark curtain shuts the scene at last, May thy freed spirit leave this earthly sod, And fly to seek the bosom of thy God.

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