The Tribute: A Collection of Miscellaneous Unpublished Poems by Various Authors

J. Murray, and H. Lindsell, 1837 - 422 pages

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Page 244 - When I was wont to meet her In the silent woody places By the home that gave me birth, We stood tranced in long embraces Mixt with kisses sweeter sweeter Than anything on earth.
Page 244 - A shadow flits before me, Not thou, but like to thee; Ah Christ, that it were possible For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
Page 14 - Lord, what a change within us one short hour Spent in Thy presence will prevail to make, What heavy burdens from our bosoms take, What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower ! We kneel, and all around us seems to lower ; We rise, and all, the distant and the near, Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear. We kneel, how weak! we rise, how full of power!
Page 247 - Would the happy spirit descend, From the realms of light and song, In the chamber or the street, As she looks among the blest, Should I fear to greet my friend Or to say
Page 247 - But the broad light glares and beats, And the shadow flits and fleets And will not let me be ; And I loathe the squares and streets, And the faces that one meets, Hearts with no love for me: Always I long to creep Into some still cavern deep, There to weep, and weep, and weep My whole soul out to thee.
Page 92 - At this sweet hour all things beside In amorous pairs to covert creep, The swans that brush the evening tide Homeward in snowy couples keep. In his green den the murmuring seal Close by his sleek companion lies, While singly we to bedward steal, And close in fruitless sleep our eyes.
Page 246 - Get thee hence, nor come again, Mix not memory with doubt, Pass, thou deathlike type of pain, Pass and cease to move about!
Page 245 - Half the night I waste in sighs, Half in dreams I sorrow after The delight of early skies ; In a wakeful doze I sorrow For the hand, the lips, the eyes, For the meeting of the morrow, The delight of happy laughter, The delight of low replies.
Page 335 - And as she gazed, in wonder lost, on all the scene around, She saw a peasant at her feet, a-tilling of the ground ; The little creature crawled about so slowly here and there, And lighted by the morning sun, his plough shone bright and fair. " Oh, pretty plaything !" cried the child, " I'll take thee home with me...
Page 281 - And the soft west wind awoke the wood To an intermitting sound. Louder or fainter as it rose, Or died away, was borne The harmony of merry bells, From Brough that pleasant morn. " Why are the merry bells of Brough, My friend, so few ? " said I, " They disappoint the expectant ear, Which they should gratify.

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