Poems

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W. Kent, 1859 - English poetry - 188 pages
 

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Page i - And nights devoid of ease. Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction
Page 158 - Look aloft!" and be firm, and be fearless of heart. If the friend who embraced In prosperity's glow, With a smile for each joy, and a tear for each woe, Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are arrayed, "Look aloft!
Page 27 - TIS PLEASANT LIVING. BE not harsh and unforgiving, Live in love ; 'tis pleasant living. If an angry man should meet thee, And assail thee indiscreetly, Turn not thou again and rend him, Lest thou needlessly offend him ; Show him love hath been thy teacher, Kindness is a potent preacher : Gentleness is e'er forgiving, — Live in love ; 'tis pleasant living. Why be angry with each other ? Man was made to love his brother : Kindness is a human duty, Meekness a celestial beauty. Words of kindness spoke...
Page 93 - He wooes the bright sun o'er the lea With a flourish of his horn. So the thrush, the thrush, the old gray thrush, A merry, blithe old boy is he ; You may hear him on the roadside bush, Or the topmost twig of the mountain tree. To come with the balmy breath of Spring, And...
Page 91 - For he sits upon the topmost twig To carol forth his glee, And none can dance a merrier jig, Or laugh more loud than he. So the thrush, the thrush, the old gray thrush...
Page v - Mr. Capern's features have a striking resemblance to those of Oliver Goldsmith ; he has also the Doctor's sturdy build, though not his personal height. Nor is this the only point of resemblance to our dear Goldy. Mr. Capern has an ear for music, he plays touchingly on the flute, and sings his own songs to his own tunes with striking energy or tenderness.
Page 158 - Or dragging your limbs through a lawn ; [f wading knee-deep through an angry flood, Or a plough'd field newly sown, — " If sweating big drops 'neath a burning sun, And shiv'ring "mid sleet and snow ; If drenched to the skin with rain, be fun, And can a joy bestow ! " If toiling away through a weary week (No six days work but seven) Without one holy hour to seek A resting place in heaven.
Page 155 - ... plays touchingly on the flute, and sings his own songs to his own tunes with striking energy or tenderness." He certainly enjoyed his life as a postman. He says: — O, the postman's life is as happy a life As any one's, I trow ; Wand'ring away where dragon-flies play, And brooks sing- soft and low ; And watching the lark as he soars on high, To carol in yonder cloud, "He sings in his labours, and why not I ?
Page 53 - WHEBE hast thou been, my beautiful Spring ? To the sultry south, on the swallow's wing ; Kissing the little kidnapped slave, Ere borne away on the deep blue wave ; Brushing the tear from the mother's cheek, As she wept for her child at Mozambique ? Else whence comest thou with this potent charm, Chaining the winds to the frigid zone, Making the breast of Nature warm, And stilling old Winter's undertone ? Where hast thou been, my beautiful Spring...
Page 159 - But, postman, not to thee." O, the postman's is a blessed life, And, sighing heavily,

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