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Page 239 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Page 584 - Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side, Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm, Fill up the interspersed vacancies And momentary pauses of the thought ! My babe so beautiful ! it thrills my heart With tender gladness, thus to look at thee...
Page 485 - Late political events have convinced me, that the whole transaction was intended as a blind to the protestant and high church party ; that the noble duke, who had, for some time previous to that period, determined upon " breaking in upon the constitution of 1688," might the more effectually, under the cloak of some outward show of zeal for the Protestant religion, carry on his insidious designs, for the infringement of our liberties, and the introduction of popery into every department of the state.
Page 585 - Full fain it would delay me! My dear babe, Who, capable of no articulate sound, Mars all things with his imitative lisp,— How he would place his hand beside his ear, His little hand, the small forefinger up, And bid us listen ! And I deem it wise To make him nature's playmate. He knows well The evening star; and once, when he awoke In most distressful mood, (some inward pain Had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream...
Page 583 - OFT o'er my brain does that strange fancy roll Which makes the present (while the flash doth last) Seem a mere semblance of some unknown past Mixed with such feelings, as perplex the soul Self-questioned in her sleep ; and some have said We lived, ere yet this robe of flesh we wore.
Page 252 - Life ! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard. to part when friends are dear — Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; — Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good Night, — but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning.
Page 586 - I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest, Lord of thy house and hospitality; And Grief, uneasy lover ! never rest But when she sate within the touch of thee.
Page 345 - But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
Page 254 - Couldst thou go back into far-distant years, Or share with me, fond thought ! that inward eye, Then, and then only, Painter ! could thy Art The visual powers of Nature satisfy, Which hold, whate'er to common sight appears, Their sovereign empire in a faithful heart.