Echoes of Infant VoicesW. Crosby and H. P. Nichols, 1849 - 144 Seiten |
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Seite 27
... loved so well , is earlier blest than mine ; My path may darken as it will , I shall not much deplore , Since thou art where the ills of life can never reach thee more . THE FAREWELL TO THE DEAD . COME near ! - TO WILLIAM . 27.
... loved so well , is earlier blest than mine ; My path may darken as it will , I shall not much deplore , Since thou art where the ills of life can never reach thee more . THE FAREWELL TO THE DEAD . COME near ! - TO WILLIAM . 27.
Seite 31
... Thou art , ( ' t was all thy wish , ) thou art gone home . * Ours are the loss and agonizing grief , The slow , dead hours , the sighs without relief , * Her last words , uttered but a few moments before her death , were , " I want to ...
... Thou art , ( ' t was all thy wish , ) thou art gone home . * Ours are the loss and agonizing grief , The slow , dead hours , the sighs without relief , * Her last words , uttered but a few moments before her death , were , " I want to ...
Seite 32
... Thou art at rest where storms can vex no more . When shall we meet again , and kiss away The tears of joy in one eternal day ? Most lovely thou , in beauty's rarest truth ! A cherub's face ; the breathing blush of youth ; A smile more ...
... Thou art at rest where storms can vex no more . When shall we meet again , and kiss away The tears of joy in one eternal day ? Most lovely thou , in beauty's rarest truth ! A cherub's face ; the breathing blush of youth ; A smile more ...
Seite 35
... thy form , or polished by thy hands . My home how full of thee ! But where art thou ? Gone , like the sunbeam from the mountain's brow ; But , unlike that , once passed the fated bourn , Bright beam of heaven , thou never shalt return ...
... thy form , or polished by thy hands . My home how full of thee ! But where art thou ? Gone , like the sunbeam from the mountain's brow ; But , unlike that , once passed the fated bourn , Bright beam of heaven , thou never shalt return ...
Seite 46
... thou mightst entertain apart The richest flowering of all art ; And , as the great all - loving Day Through smallest chambers takes its way , That thou mightst break thy daily bread With prophet , Saviour , and head ; That thou mightst ...
... thou mightst entertain apart The richest flowering of all art ; And , as the great all - loving Day Through smallest chambers takes its way , That thou mightst break thy daily bread With prophet , Saviour , and head ; That thou mightst ...
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angel ANGEL OF DEATH art thou babe beams beauty behold bird blessed blest bliss bloom blossoms fall breast breath bright brow calm Casa Wappy charm cheek cherub child child Jesus clouds cold crown dark darling dead dear death deep doth dust dwell dying E'en earth earthly face fair farewell Fate feel flowers fond gazed gentle gone grace grave grief happy spirit hath heart heaven heavenly holy hope infant kiss knew life's light lips look lost mirth morning morning-glory mother mourn ne'er never Nevermore night numbered o'er pale passed prayer pure Reaper rest rill riven round seraph silent sinless sleep slumber smile song sorrow star stern word sweet tears tell tender thee thine eye thou art thou didst thou wert thought thy soul thy spirit unto voice watched weary Willie Wilt thou wind windflower wing YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 142 - She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule.
Seite 9 - I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves.
Seite 142 - There is no death ! What seems so is transition ; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Seite 141 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair...
Seite 125 - We watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. " ' So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. " ' Our very hopes belied our fears ; Our fears our hopes belied ; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. " ' For when the morn came dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed ; — she had Another morn...
Seite 92 - THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead ; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread ; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers...
Seite 10 - He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. " My Lord has need of these flowerets gay," The reaper said, and smiled ; " Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child.
Seite 130 - Oh, should my gentle child be spared to manhood's years like me, A holier and a wiser man I trust that he will be ; And when I look into his eyes, and stroke his thoughtful brow, I dare not think what I should feel, were I to lose him now.
Seite 93 - Alas ! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.
Seite 49 - Up to his style, and manners of the sky. Not of adamant and gold Built he heaven stark and cold ; ; No, but a nest of bending reeds, Flowering grass and scented weeds , \ Or like a traveller's fleeing tent, Or bow above the tempest bent ; Built of tears and sacred flames, And virtue reaching to its aims; Built of furtherance and pursuing, Not of spent deeds, but of doing.