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Página 49 - She half enclosed me with her arms, She pressed me with a meek embrace; And bending back her head, looked up, And gazed upon my face. 'Twas partly love, and partly fear, And partly 'twas a bashful art, That I might rather feel, than see, The swelling of her heart.
Página 26 - To-day, my lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him, as he lay along Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood...
Página 86 - WHY, William, on that old grey stone, Thus for the length of half a day, Why, William, sit you thus alone, And dream your time away? 'Where are your books?
Página 119 - For my heart was hot and restless, And my life was full of care, And the burden laid upon me Seemed greater than I could bear. But now it has fallen from me, It is buried in the sea ; And only the sorrow of others Throws its shadow over me.
Página 86 - Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books; Or surely you'll grow double : Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks; Why all this toil and trouble?
Página 106 - The dog is not of mountain breed ; Its motions, too, are wild and shy ; With something, as the shepherd thinks, Unusual in its cry : Nor is there any one in sight All round, in hollow or on height ; Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear — What is the creature doing here ? It was a cove, a huge recess, That keeps, till June, December's snow ; A lofty precipice in front, A silent tarn...
Página 32 - There is a blessing in the air, Which seems a sense of joy to yield To the bare trees, and mountains bare. And grass in the green field. Love, now an universal birth, From heart to heart is stealing, From earth to man, from man to earth, It is the hour of feeling.
Página 32 - Matthew is in his grave, yet now, Methinks, I see him stand, As at that moment, with a bough Of wilding in his hand. THE FOUNTAIN. A CONVERSATION. We talked with open heart, and tongue Affectionate and true, A pair of friends, though I was young, And Matthew seventy-two. We lay beneath a spreading oak, Beside a mossy seat ; And from the turf a fountain broke, And gurgled at our feet. 'Now, Matthew...
Página 142 - SONG. COME, fill a pledge to sorrow, The song of mirth is o'er, And if there's sunshine in our hearts, 'Twill light our theme the more. And pledge we dull life's changes. As round the swift hours pass — Too kind were fate, if none but gems Should sparkle in Time's glass.
Página 56 - Thou know'st, and thou alone," She said, "for I have told thee, all my love, And guilt, and sorrow. I am sick of life. All night I weep in darkness, and the morn Glares on me, as upon a thing accursed, That has no business on the earth.

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