Poems

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E. Moxon, 1851 - English poetry - 305 pages
 

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Page 15 - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! * Each stamps its image as the other flies.
Page 223 - Cabrieres which till then he neglected it is therefore Death alone that can suddenly make man to know himself he tells the proud and insolent that they are but abjects and humbles them at the instant makes them cry complain and repent yea even to hate their...
Page 27 - SWEET MEMORY, wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers. Ages and climes remote to Thee impart What charms in Genius, and refines in Art ; Thee, in whose hand the keys of Science dwell, The pensive portress of her holy cell ; Whose constant vigils chase the chilling damp Oblivion steals upon her vestal-lamp.
Page 199 - Then before All they stand — the holy vow And ring of gold, no fond illusions now, Bind her as his. Across the threshold led, And every tear kissed off as soon as shed, His house she enters — there to be a light, Shining within, when all without is night ; A guardian-angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing...
Page 35 - Than when the shades of Time serenely fall On every broken arch and ivied wall ; The tender images we love to trace, Steal from each year a melancholy grace! And as the sparks of social love expand, As the heart opens in a foreign land; And with a brother's warmth, a brother's smile, The stranger greets each native of his isle...
Page 76 - But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love.
Page 200 - The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till waked and kindled by the master's spell ; And feeling hearts — touch them but rightly — pour A thousand melodies unheard before...
Page 224 - O eloquent, just, and mighty Death ! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded ; what none hath dared, thou hast done ; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and despised ; thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, Hie jacet...
Page 15 - Each stamps its image as the other flies. Each, as the various avenues of sense Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, Brightens or fades ; yet all, with magic art, Control the latent fibres of the heart. As studious PROSPERO'S mysterious spell Drew every subject-spirit to his cell ; Each, at thy call, advances or retires, As judgment dictates, or the scene inspires.
Page 71 - A silent chronicle of happier hours ! When Christmas revels in a world of snow, And bids her berries blush, her carols flow ; His spangling shower when frost the wizard flings ; Or, borne in ether blue, on viewless wings, O'er the white pane his silvery foliage weaves, And gems with icicles the sheltering eaves ; — Thy muffled friend his...

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