The Poetical Works of William Cowper

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Nimmo, 1863 - 378 pāgines
 

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Pāgina 295 - There, if thy Spirit touch the soul, And grace her mean abode, Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love, She communes with her God ! There like the nightingale she pours Her solitary lays ; Nor asks a witness of her song, Nor thirsts for human praise.
Pāgina 268 - OH ! for a closer walk with God , A calm and heavenly frame ; A light to shine upon the road That leads me to the Lamb ! Where is the blessedness I knew When first I saw the Lord ? Where is the soul-refreshing view Of Jesus and his word ? What peaceful hours I once enjoyed ! How sweet their memory still ! But they have left an aching void, The world can never fill.
Pāgina 289 - God in Israel sows the seeds Of affliction, pain, and toil ; These spring up and choke the weeds Which would else o'erspread the soil Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer ; Trials bring me to his feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.
Pāgina 477 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary! For could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign; Yet, gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Pāgina 315 - And thus unto the youth she said That drove them to the Bell, "This shall be yours when you bring back My husband safe and well." The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain, Whom in a trice he tried to stop By catching at his rein. • But not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more, And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went post-boy at his heels, The post-boy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels.
Pāgina 443 - Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. What ardently I wish'd I long believed.
Pāgina 391 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute, From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.
Pāgina 118 - Their blood is shed In confirmation of the noblest claim, Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, To walk with God, to be divinely free, To soar, and to anticipate the skies!
Pāgina 134 - Sacred to neatness and repose, the alcove, The chamber, or refectory, may die. A necessary act incurs no blame. Not so when held within their proper bounds And guiltless of offence, they range the air, Or take their pastime in the spacious field.
Pāgina 39 - Of neighbouring fountain, or of rills that slip Through the cleft rock, and chiming as they fall Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length In matted grass, that with a livelier green Betrays the secret of their silent course.

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