Representative Southern Poets

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Neale publishing Company, 1906 - Literary Criticism - 201 pages
 

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Page 175 - Of her bright face one glance will trace A picture on the brain, And of her voice in echoing hearts A sound must long remain; But memory, such as mine of her, So very much endears, When death is nigh my latest sigh Will not be life's, but hers. I fill this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex The seeming paragon — Her health! and would on earth there stood Some more of such a frame, That life might be all poetry, And weariness a name.
Page 160 - These abilities, wheresoever they be found, are the inspired gift of God rarely bestowed, but yet to some, though most abuse, in every nation ; and are of power, beside the office of a pulpit, to inbreed and cherish in a great people the seeds of virtue and public civility ; to allay the perturbations of the mind, and set the affections in right tune ; to celebrate, in glorious and lofty hymns, the throne and equipage of God's almightiness...
Page 49 - But oh, not the hills of Habersham, And oh, not the valleys of Hall Avail : I am fain for to water the plain. Downward the voices of Duty call — Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main, The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn, And a myriad flowers mortally yearn, And the lordly main from beyond the plain Calls o'er the hills of Habersham, Calls through the valleys of Hall.
Page 49 - The dewberry dipped for to work delay, And the little reeds sighed Abide, abide, Here in the hills of Habersham, Here in the valleys of Hall.
Page 146 - Dear captain, inquiring about the men. Captain's answer : of eighty and five, Giffen and I are left alive. "Word of gloom from the war, one day ; Johnston pressed at the front, they say. Little Giffen was up and away; A tear — his first— as he_ bade good-by, Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye. 'I'll write, if spared !' There was news of the fight ; But none of Giffen — he did not write.
Page 198 - It is the desire of the moth for the star. It is no more appreciation of the Beauty before us — but a wild effort to reach the Beauty above. "Inspired by an ecstatic prescience of the glories beyond the grave, we struggle by multiform combinations among the things and thoughts of Time, to attain a portion of that Loveliness, whose very elements, perhaps, appertain to eternity alone.
Page 198 - There is still a something in the distance which he has been unable to attain. We have still a thirst unquenchable, to allay which he has not shown us the crystal springs.
Page 158 - Of sentiments purely religious, it will be found that the most simple expression is the most sublime. Poetry loses its lustre and its power, because it is applied to the decoration of something more excellent than itself.
Page 112 - tis hard for us to fold it; Hard to think there's none to hold it ; Hard that those who once unrolled it Now must furl it with a sigh.
Page 39 - Yon dome of too-tenuous tissues of space and of night, Overweighted with stars, overfreighted with light, Oversated with beauty and silence, will seem But a bubble that broke in a dream, If a bound of degree to this grace be laid, Or a sound or a motion made.

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