The Ladies' Wreath: A Selection from the Female Poetic Writers of England and America : with Original Notices and Notes : Prepared Especially for Young Ladies : a Gift Book for All SeasonsMarsh, Capen & Lyon, 1837 - 408 páginas |
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Página 35
... touch , in our bosom - cells ; Something that finds not its answer here — A chain to be clasped in another sphere . Therefore a current of sadness deep , Through the stream of thy triumphs is heard to sweep , Like a moan of the breeze ...
... touch , in our bosom - cells ; Something that finds not its answer here — A chain to be clasped in another sphere . Therefore a current of sadness deep , Through the stream of thy triumphs is heard to sweep , Like a moan of the breeze ...
Página 37
... touch Bids the sweet fountain flow ; Few - and by still conflicting powers Forbidden here to meet - Such ties would make this life of ours Too fair for aught so fleet . It may be that thy brother's eye Sees not as thine , which turns In ...
... touch Bids the sweet fountain flow ; Few - and by still conflicting powers Forbidden here to meet - Such ties would make this life of ours Too fair for aught so fleet . It may be that thy brother's eye Sees not as thine , which turns In ...
Página 45
... Touch'd by the solemn tone ? Not so ! for , never to return , Its purity was gone . Therefore , midst holy stream and bower , His spirit shook with dread , And call'd the cedars , in that hour To veil his conscious head . Oh ! in each ...
... Touch'd by the solemn tone ? Not so ! for , never to return , Its purity was gone . Therefore , midst holy stream and bower , His spirit shook with dread , And call'd the cedars , in that hour To veil his conscious head . Oh ! in each ...
Página 49
... storm . She wiped the death - damps from his brow , With her pale hands and soft , Whose touch upon the lute - chords low Had still'd his heart so oft . She spread her mantle o'er his breast , She bathed 5 MRS . HEMANS . 49.
... storm . She wiped the death - damps from his brow , With her pale hands and soft , Whose touch upon the lute - chords low Had still'd his heart so oft . She spread her mantle o'er his breast , She bathed 5 MRS . HEMANS . 49.
Página 65
... touch of angel's bliss Receive from each its grateful kiss . - To see them , when their hour of love is past , Aside their grave demeanor cast ; With her in mimic war they wrestle ; Beneath her twisted robe they nestle ; Upon her ...
... touch of angel's bliss Receive from each its grateful kiss . - To see them , when their hour of love is past , Aside their grave demeanor cast ; With her in mimic war they wrestle ; Beneath her twisted robe they nestle ; Upon her ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Barry Cornwall beauty Bernard Barton bird blessed bloom blossoms bosom bower breast breath bright brow CAROLINE BOWLES charms cheek child childhood clouds cold dark dear death deep doth dreams earth earthly fade fair fancy father fear feel FELICIA HEMANS flowers fond gaze Genie genius gentle glow gone grace hand happy hath hear heart heaven Hemans holy hope hour Joanna Baillie lady life's light lips literary lonely look lute lyre Mary Howitt Mary Mitford mind mirth Mont Blanc mother muse ne'er neath never night o'er poems poetess poetry prayer pure rest Rienzi rose round shade sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stranger's heart stream sweet tears tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought tone tree twas voice weary weep wild wings woman words young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 19 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Página 20 - Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar ? Bright jewels of the mine ? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? They sought a faith's pure shrine ! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod ; They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God.
Página 347 - She dwells with Beauty — Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to Poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Página 24 - The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one, He lies where pearls lie deep, He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep.
Página 115 - DOWN in a green and shady bed, A modest violet grew, Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view.
Página 36 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at. the north-wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death.
Página 164 - I've always felt for you? I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice; I'm sure you're very welcome — will you please to take a slice ? " " Oh, no, no," said the little fly, " kind sir, that cannot be ; I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see.
Página 58 - How the lone paths retrace where thou wert playing So late, along the mountains, at my side ? And I, in joyous pride, By every place of flowers my course delaying Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair, Beholding thee so fair!
Página 55 - ... and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly ! With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine — I may not stay. Away from the dwellings of care-worn men, The waters are sparkling in grove and glen ! Away from the chamber and sullen hearth, ( The young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth ! Their light stems thrill to the wild-wood strains, And youth is abroad in my green domains...
Página 163 - With soaring up so high ; Will you rest upon my little bed?" Said the Spider to the Fly. " There are pretty curtains drawn around ; The sheets are fine and thin, And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!