The Village magazine

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Page 182 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Page 75 - O LORD, from whom all good things do come ; Grant to us thy humble servants, that by thy holy inspiration we may think those things that be good, and by thy merciful guiding may perform the same ; through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Page 173 - On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide, Fresh flowers ; while the sun shines warm, And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm...
Page 327 - No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close ; As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, The same look which she turned when he rose.
Page 14 - O MAIDEN ! heir of kings ! A king has left his place ! The majesty of Death has swept All other from his face ! And thou upon thy mother's breast No longer lean adown, But take the glory for the rest, And rule the land that loves thee best...
Page 297 - Ye toppling crags of ice ! Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down In mountainous o'erwhelming, come and crush me! I hear ye momently above, beneath, Crash with a frequent conflict ; but ye pass, And only fall on things which still would live ; On the young flourishing forest, or the hut And hamlet of the harmless villager.
Page 27 - Thus then to man the voice of nature spake — " Go, from the creatures thy instructions take : Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield; Learn from the beasts the physic of the field; Thy...
Page 292 - In a golden current on, Ere from the garden, man's first abode, The glorious guests were gone. So might the days have been brightly told — Those days of song and dreams, — When shepherds gathered their flocks of old By the blue Arcadian streams. So in those isles of delight, that rest Far off in a breezeless main, Which many a bark, with a weary quest Has sought, but still in vain.
Page 329 - Wind, gentle evergreen, to form a shade Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid ; Sweet ivy wind thy boughs, and intertwine With blushing roses and the clustering vine : Thus will thy lasting leaves with beauties hung, Prove grateful emblems of the lays he sung ; Whose soul, exalted like a god of wit, Among the Muses and the Graces writ.
Page 298 - Away with me — The clouds grow thicker — there — now lean on me — Place your foot here — here, take this staff, and cling A moment to that shrub — now give me your hand...

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