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Página 32 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene! How often have I paused on every charm, The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topped the neighboring hill, The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade. For talking age and whispering lovers made!
Página 211 - The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; The monarch may forget the crown ' That on his head an hour has been ; The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me ! " LINES, SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITEFORD, BART.
Página 65 - Who didst not change through all the past, And canst not alter now. The love where Death has set his seal, Nor age can chill, nor rival steal, Nor falsehood disavow: And, what were worse, thou canst not see Or wrong, or change, or fault in me. The better days of life were ours; The worst can be but mine: The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers, Shall never more be thine. The silence of that dreamless sleep I envy now too much to weep; Nor need I to repine That all those charms have pass'd away,...
Página 105 - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Página 78 - And took a long farewell, and wished in vain For seats like these beyond the western main ; And, shuddering still to face the distant deep, Returned and wept, and still returned to weep...
Página 197 - A few short hours and he will rise To give the morrow birth; And I shall hail the main and skies But not my mother earth. Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall; My dog howls at the gate.
Página 162 - Before the ripened field the reapers stand In fair array, each by the lass he loves, To bear the rougher part and mitigate By nameless gentle offices her toil. At once they stoop, and swell the lusty sheaves ; While through their cheerful band the rural talk, The rural scandal, and the rural jest Fly harmless, to deceive the tedious time 160 And steal unfelt the sultry hours away.
Página 267 - No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close ; As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, The same look which she turned when he rose.
Página 275 - FLOW on for ever, in thy glorious robe Of terror and of beauty. Yea, flow on Unfathom'd and resistless. God hath set His rainbow on thy forehead: and the cloud Mantled around thy feet. And he doth give Thy voice of thunder power to speak of Him Eternally — bidding the lip of man Keep silence — and upon thine altar pour Incense of awe-struck praise.
Página 134 - GOD might have made the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak-tree and the cedar-tree, Without a flower at all. "We might have had enough, enough For every want of ours, For luxury, medicine, and toil, And yet have had no flowers. The ore within the mountain mine Requireth none to grow ; Nor doth it need the lotus-flower To make the river flow.