Poems, Volume 1

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E. Lincoln, 1802 - English poetry

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Page 296 - It is my wedding-day, and all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmonton, and I should dine at Ware." So, turning to his horse, he said, "I am in haste to dine; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here — you shall go back for mine.
Page 218 - Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place. 1 am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain My form with indifference see, They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me.
Page 289 - I do admire of womankind but one, And you are she, my dearest dear, therefore it shall be done. I am a linen-draper bold, as all the world doth know; And my good friend the calender will lend his horse to go.
Page 292 - So, Fair and softly ! John he cried, But John he cried in vain; That trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein.
Page 219 - Ye winds that have made me your sport. Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more : My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Page 227 - Then shifting his side (as a lawyer knows how), He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes : But what were his arguments few people know, For the court did not think they were equally wise. So his Lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone, Decisive and clear, without one if or but — That, whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, By daylight or candlelight — Eyes should be shut...
Page 218 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Page 72 - Yon cottager, who weaves at her own door, Pillow and bobbins all her little store ; Content though mean, and cheerful if not gay, Shuffling her threads about, the livelong day, Just earns a scanty pittance, and, at night, Lies down secure, her heart and pocket light...
Page 219 - I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain , My form with indifference see; They are so unacquainted with man , Their tameness is shocking to me. Society, friendship, and love, Divinely bestowed upon man , Oh , had I the wings of a dove , How soon would I taste you again!
Page 219 - Religion ! what treasure untold Resides in that heavenly word ! More precious than silver and gold, Or all that this earth can afford. But the sound of the church-going bell These valleys and rocks never heard, Ne'er sighed at the sound of a knell, Or smiled when a sabbath appeared.

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