Poetical Works

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Little, Brown, 1865
 

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Pàgines seleccionades

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Passatges populars

Pàgina 112 - Once, in the flight of ages past, There lived a man — and who was he ? Mortal, howe'er thy lot be cast, That man resembled thee.
Pàgina 98 - THERE is a flower, a little flower, With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky. The prouder beauties of the field In gay but quick succession shine, Race after race their honours yield, They flourish and decline. But this small flower, to Nature dear, While moons and stars their courses run, Wreathes the whole circle of the year, Companion of the Sun.
Pàgina 45 - The soul, of origin divine, God's glorious image freed from clay, In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine A star of day ! The sun is but a spark of fire, A transient meteor in the sky ; The soul, immortal as its Sire, SHALL NEVER DIE!
Pàgina 144 - THERE is a land of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons emparadise the night ; A land of beauty, virtue...
Pàgina 46 - I long to lay this painful head And aching heart beneath the soil, To slumber in that dreamless bed From all my toil.
Pàgina 144 - O'er China's garden-fields and peopled floods ; In California's pathless world of woods ; Round Andes' heights, where Winter, from his throne, Looks down in scorn upon the summer zone ; By the gay borders of Bermuda's isles, Where Spring with everlasting verdure smiles ; On pure Madeira's vine-robed hills of health ; In Java's swamps of pestilence and wealth ; Where Babel stood, where wolves and jackals drink, Midst weeping willows, on Euphrates...
Pàgina 143 - An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; Around her knees domestic duties meet, And fire-side pleasures gambol at her feet. Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found? " Art thou a man — a patriot ? look around, O thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy home.
Pàgina 142 - The heritage of nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest...
Pàgina 46 - The Grave, that never spake before, Hath found at length a tongue to chide: O listen ! — I will speak no more ; Be silent, pride ! " Art thou a wretch, of hope forlorn, The victim of consuming care ? Is thy distracted conscience torn By fell despair 1 " Do foul misdeeds of former times Wring with remorse thy guilty breast...
Pàgina 112 - Alternate triumphed in his breast ; His bliss and woe— a smile, a tear ! Oblivion hides the rest. The bounding pulse, the languid limb, The changing spirits...

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