River scenery. In the workaday world. In harvest time. In the fall of the leaf. By the fireside. Within and without

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Smith, Elder, 1865

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Page 131 - The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun. Is there anything whereof it may be said, "See, this is new"? it hath been already of old time, which was before us.
Page 187 - Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft, To give my love good-morrow. Wings from the wind to please her mind. Notes from the lark I'll borrow : Bird, prune thy wing; nightingale, sing, To give my love good-morrow.
Page 187 - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow. Wake from thy nest, robin redbreast, Sing birds in every furrow...
Page 241 - Thou wilt not leave us in the dust: Thou madest man, he knows not why, — He thinks he was not made to die; And thou hast made him : thou art just.
Page 176 - Over the mountains And over the waves, Under the fountains And under the graves ; Under floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey ; Over rocks that are steepest Love will find out the way.
Page 188 - Growing on's cheek (but none knows how), With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin; All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me? THE SONGS OF BIRDS What bird so sings, yet so does wail? O 'tis the ravished nightingale. 'Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu,' she cries, And still her woes at midnight rise.
Page 173 - FULL knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow, And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying. Old year, you must not die; You came to us so readily, You lived with us so steadily, Old year, you shall not die. He lieth still: he doth not move : He will not see the dawn of day. He hath no other life above. He gave me a friend, and a true true-love, And the New-year will take 'em away.
Page 180 - LOVE me little, love me long, Is the burden of my song. Love that is too hot and strong Burneth soon to waste. Still I would not have thee cold, Not too backward or too bold ; Love that lasteth till 'tis old Fadeth not in haste.
Page 178 - O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low : Trip no further, pretty sweeting ; Journeys end in lovers meeting, 40 Every wise man's son doth know.
Page 178 - tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure. 202 Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. Sir To. A contagious breath. Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i

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