Poems, Volume 1

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Wiley and Putnam, 1847 - 229 pages

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Page 9 - WE watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied—- We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. For when the morn came, dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed — she had Another morn than ours.
Page 142 - I SAW old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn ; — Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
Page 143 - The swallows all have wing'd across the main ; But here the Autumn melancholy dwells, And sighs her tearful spells Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. Alone, alone, Upon a mossy stone, She sits and reckons up the dead and gone, With the last leaves for a love-rosary...
Page 165 - WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF SHAKSPEARE. How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled ! Hues of all flow'rs that in their ashes lie, Trophied in that fair light whereon they fed, Tulip, and hyacinth, and sweet rose red, — Like exhalations from the leafy mould, Look here how honour glorifies the dead, And warms their scutcheons with a glance of gold !Such is the memory of poets old, Who on Parnassus...
Page 9 - LOVE thy mother, little one ! Kiss and clasp her neck again, — Hereafter she may have a son Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain. Love thy mother, little one ! Gaze upon her living eyes, And mirror back her love for thee, — Hereafter thou may'st shudder sighs To meet them when they cannot see. Gaze upon her living eyes...
Page 5 - ... night — Colder, colder, colder still, Upward steals a vapor chill ; Strong the earthy odor grows — I smell the mould above the rose ! Welcome life ! the spirit strives ! Strength returns and hope revives ; Cloudy fears and shapes forlorn Fly like shadows at the morn, — O'er the earth there comes a bloom ; Sunny light for sullen gloom, Warm perfume for vapor cold — I smell the rose above the mould
Page 143 - On panting wings through the inclement skies, Lest owls should prey Undazzled at noonday, And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes. Where are the blooms of Summer ? — In the west, Blushing their last to the last sunny hours. When the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest Like tearful Proserpine, snatch'd from her flow'rs To a most gloomy breast.
Page 134 - Christmas come ! The prize of merit, won for home — Merit had prizes then ! But now I write for days and days, For fame — a deal of empty praise, Without the silver pen ! Then home, sweet home ! the crowded coach — The joyous shout — the loud approach — The winding horns like rams' ! The meeting sweet that made me thrill, The sweetmeats almost sweeter still, No 'satis
Page 193 - Thrice blessed, rather, is the man with whom The gracious prodigality of nature, The balm, the bliss, the beauty, and the bloom, The bounteous providence in...
Page 133 - The careless dogs'-ears apt to deck My book and collar both ! How can this formal man be styled Merely an Alexandrine child, A boy of larger growth ? Oh for that small, small beer anew ! And (heaven's own type) that mild sky-blue...

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