The country minister, a poem, with other poems

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Pàgina 100 - IS sweet to think, that, when I die, There's one will hold my languid head, And let me on her bosom lie, Till every breath of life is fled : And when these beaming eyes shall close, And lose, at last, their fading ray, For ever fix'd in deep repose, She'll watch beside my lifeless clay.
Pàgina 101 - Tis sweet to think, that, when I'm dead, Her eye will pour its softest tear, Her hand upon my green turf shed The sweetest flowerets of the year.
Pàgina 7 - O'er human woes, and pour'd her healing balm: That humble roof no lofty pillars raise, No organ there swells high the voice of praise, The naked walls no...

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