Advent: A Mystery

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John S. Taylor, 1837 - American poetry - 132 pages
 

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Page 43 - the parent's transport and the parent's care." Blessings are fondly poured upon thy head. Rest thee there in thy little bed, thou happy emblem of the loved and pure in heaven ' " Visions sure of joy Are gladdening his rest; and ah, who knows But waiting angels do converse in sleep With babes like this !" imparting to his infant soul unutterable things, whispering soft of bliss immortal given, and pouring into his 'new-born senses the dreams of opening heaven. What charms and momentous interests surround...
Page 66 - TIS a land of kings — of poets, seers, Wise men and holy, priests and prophets sage, And the best home of heavenly poesy, Since here the poet was the monarch too.
Page 49 - Ho ! here they are full sure, and fast asleep, I left them to bring back one straying lamb, And find them losing scores. Come, rouse ye drones ! Ho here ! awake I What mean ye thus at rest!
Page 71 - With deep amaze All radiant stranger thy instructions sage And marvellous, we hear; yet would inquire (If not profane to ask) their meaning hid And scarce contain'd by our surprised ears.
Page 34 - CHORUS. Dire ! dire indeed ! we weep, we wail! But his fiery-flooded hail Burns not as his triumph stings; Nor scathes our air-infecting wings...
Page 36 - Why waste in words The hours we might employ in mighty works, In deeds that shall outyell our falling groans, And like our torment smoke eternally.
Page 80 - If in those arms, those breasts, ye take delight, Oh woo them still; they're beautiful though dust!
Page 64 - And his dark locks stood upright — while a voice Amid the stillness that was shadowy round Spoke in dark whispers...

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