Songs of Devon, and Miscellaneous Poems

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Simpkin, 1843 - 156 pages
 

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Page 21 - My languid vitals' feeble rill, The sickness of my soul declare. But yet, with fortitude resign'd, I'll thank the Inflicter of the blow, Forbid the sigh, compose my mind, Nor let the gush of misery flow. The gloomy mantle of the night, Which on my sinking spirit steals, Will vanish at the morning light Which God, my East, my Sun reveals.
Page 1 - To make us truly blest : If happiness hae not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest : Nae treasures, nor pleasures, Could make us happy lang; The heart aye's the part aye, That makes us right or wrang.
Page 52 - ... winter guest, till spring returning, Shall bring the balmy Zephyrs back again ; Then spread thy pinion to the first fair morning And humming wander o'er the flowery plain. Here fold thy fragile wing, and fix thy hermitage Where the bright blaze my cheerful cottage warms, Till the keen "biting north...
Page 37 - Dashing, and. rippling as it speeds along, As through the rocks its gushing waters stray, Should raise a chorus to my morning song. And when at eve the moon in vain essays To view her likeness in the playful stream, And...

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