Repentance: And Other PoemsLongman, 1829 - 118 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 6
Page 34
... beautiful , still night ! -there was no moon , But the bright stars were hanging overhead In golden clusters , and the breathless sea Gave them all back ; and the tall vessel seemed A fairy home , suspended ' twixt two heavens ; And ...
... beautiful , still night ! -there was no moon , But the bright stars were hanging overhead In golden clusters , and the breathless sea Gave them all back ; and the tall vessel seemed A fairy home , suspended ' twixt two heavens ; And ...
Page 41
... beautiful when past away Is their fresh brilliancy ; And the first traces of decay , Proclaim their end is nigh : When all the blossoms are no more , They catch their tints again , And mock the rose that bloomed before , With many a ...
... beautiful when past away Is their fresh brilliancy ; And the first traces of decay , Proclaim their end is nigh : When all the blossoms are no more , They catch their tints again , And mock the rose that bloomed before , With many a ...
Page 50
... gale , And that broad river winding calmly by , Reflecting in its depths the sunset sky , And that white cottage half in ruins laid , And yet more beautiful by ruin made , Decked with the natural wreaths the ivy twines , And Margaret.
... gale , And that broad river winding calmly by , Reflecting in its depths the sunset sky , And that white cottage half in ruins laid , And yet more beautiful by ruin made , Decked with the natural wreaths the ivy twines , And Margaret.
Page 51
... beautiful ; -perhaps It is not the most perfect form that wraps Always the loftiest soul , and her's was high And bright , and stainless as yon azure sky ; Yet she was lovely ! ' t was that loveliness That cometh from the spirit's pure ...
... beautiful ; -perhaps It is not the most perfect form that wraps Always the loftiest soul , and her's was high And bright , and stainless as yon azure sky ; Yet she was lovely ! ' t was that loveliness That cometh from the spirit's pure ...
Page 77
... beautiful as life ! " SHE lieth on her flower - strown bed As if a slumber deep Its balm upon her senses shed , But alas ! it is not sleep . Her heart knows now no feverish throbs- And she does not hear the sound Of the mournful sighs ...
... beautiful as life ! " SHE lieth on her flower - strown bed As if a slumber deep Its balm upon her senses shed , But alas ! it is not sleep . Her heart knows now no feverish throbs- And she does not hear the sound Of the mournful sighs ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Amidst art thou azure beautiful bliss blossoms bosom breast breath breeze bright brow calm cheek clouds dark dear death decay doth dream dwell earth earthly eyes fading fair fear Floating flowers gaze gems Gleamed glory glow green hath heard heart holy leaves life's light look love me better love to look loves me best loves me best?-my lutes melody mighty mingled mirth moss mother nought o'er ocean old grey stone passing peace peace of God pinions place of rest pure purple violet Remember rose rosebud sails sculptured stone sleeping smile soft solitude sorrow soul sparkling spring stars stirred stormless strife summer sunbeam sunny sweet sweet dream tears tempest thine things Thou hast left Thou wilt thought thunder Thy kingdom Time's tomb tone trembling trust in heaven Unto voice wandered waves Whene'er wherefore wild wind wing withered youth
Popular passages
Page 105 - Our life is two-fold : Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality. And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy...
Page 89 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Page 79 - Yet perhaps it loves me because I bring To its cage the drops from the clearest spring, And hang green branches around the door : Something surely must love me more. Who loves me best? My sister fair, With her laughing eyes and clustering hair — Who flowers around my head doth twine — Who presseth her rosy lips to mine — Who singeth me songs in her artless glee : Can any love me better than she ? Yet, when I asked, that sister confess'd, Of all, she did not love me the best ! Who loves me best?
Page 95 - THE CLOUDS. THE clouds ! the clouds ! they are beautiful When they sleep on the soft spring sky, As if the sun to rest could lull Their snowy company; And as the wind springs up they start, And career o'er the azure plain, And before the course of the breezes dart, To scatter their balmy rain. The clouds ! the clouds! how change their forms With every passing breath; And now a glancing sunbeam warms, And now they look cold as death! Oh ! often...
Page 97 - Now it shews their folds between, As if a silver veil were rent From the jewelled brow of a queen. The clouds ! the clouds ! they are the lid To the lightning's flashing eye ; And in their fleecy...
Page 81 - He who formed those frail, dear things, To which thy young heart fondly clings, — Even though all should forsake thee still, He would protect thee through every ill. Oh, is not such love worth all the rest ? — Child ! it is God who loves thee best !
Page 96 - ... glancing sunbeam warms, And now they look cold as death ! Oh ! often and often have I escaped From the stir of the noisy crowd, And a thousand fanciful visions shaped On the face of a passing cloud. The clouds ! the clouds ! round the sun at night, They come like a band of slaves, They are only bright in their master's light, And each in his glory laves.
Page 78 - Who loves me best ? — my father dear, Who loveth to have me always near ; He whom I fly each eve to meet, When past away is the noontide heat ; Who from the bank where the sunbeam lies.
Page 78 - That she some time must pass away : Who then shall shield me from earthly ill? Some one must love me better still Who loves me best ? — My father dear, Who loveth to have me always near ; He whom I fly each eve to meet, When...