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amaranthine amid Andrew Marvell angel art thou beams beautiful bends beneath birds Blackwood's Magazine blessed bloom bosom breast breath bright brow bucket cheek child clouds dark dear death deep didst dost DYING SWAN e'en earth eyes face fair fairy father fear flowers forest gaze gentle glad gleam glide glow grave green hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill holy hour kiss land leaves light lisp lonely look Mary Howitt moon morning mother mountain murmur ne'er night nursling o'er old oaken bucket pilgrim play prayer rapture rill roam rose round Sabbath shade shed shine sight silent singing sleep smile snow soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars sweet SWEET AUBURN SWEET DAY tears thee thine things thou art thoughts toil tree Twas unto voice wandering waves whispered wild wind woods Wordsworth
Page 44 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistening with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild...
Page 16 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and. beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash...
Page 67 - Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be ? " " How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell.
Page 55 - Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, — How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; How He who, bore in heaven the second name Had not on earth whereon to lay His head...
Page 158 - ... from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing ! And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell ; Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, arose from the well.
Page 103 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice Singing in Paradise : He needs must think of her once more How in the grave she lies, And with his hard rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.
Page 102 - And children coming home from school, Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Page 32 - There is a Power, whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Page 44 - Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests Were slunk, all but .the wakeful nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung...