Poems, Volumen 1

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Página 244 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Página 244 - How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land In a moment I seem to be there; But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
Página 5 - LITTLE inmate, full of mirth Chirping on my kitchen hearth. Wheresoe'er be thine abode, Always harbinger of good, Pay me for thy warm retreat With a song more soft and sweet ; In return thou shalt receive Such a strain as I can give.
Página 17 - That reaching home, the night, they said, is near, We must not now be parted, sojourn here — The new acquaintance soon became a guest, And made so welcome at their simple feast, He...
Página 262 - Did you admire my lamp, quoth he, As much as I your minstrelsy, You would abhor to do me wrong As much as I to spoil your song ; For 'twas the selfsame power divine Taught you.
Página 267 - He that holds fast the golden mean And lives contentedly between The little and the great Feels not the wants that pinch the poor Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door, Imbittering all his state.
Página 9 - He loved the world that hated him : the tear That dropped upon his Bible was sincere : Assailed by scandal and the tongue of strife, His only answer was, a blameless life ; And he that forged, and he that threw the dart, Had each a brother's interest in his heart.
Página 3 - Ye powers who rule the tongue, if such there are, And make colloquial happiness your care, Preserve me from the thing I dread and hate, — A duel in the form of a debate.
Página 71 - Yon cottager, who weaves at her own door, Pillow and bobbins all her little store, Content though mean, and cheerful if not gay, Shuffling her threads about the livelong day, Just earns a scanty pittance, and at night Lies down secure, her heart and pocket light...
Página 72 - He praised perhaps for ages yet to come, She never heard of half a mile from home ; He lost in errors his vain heart prefers, She safe in the simplicity of hers.

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