English Songs and Other Small Poems

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Page 53 - grieve. Weave, brothers, weave!—Weave, and bid The colours of sunset glow ! Let grace in each gliding thread be hid! Let beauty about ye blow! Let your skein be long, and your silk be fine, And your hands both firm and sure, And Time nor chance shall your work untwine; But all,—like a truth,—endure! So,—sing, brothers,
Page 63 - OWL. IN the hollow tree, in the old grey tower, The spectral Owl doth dwell; Dull, hated, despised, in the sunshine hour, But at dusk,—he's abroad and well! Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him; All mock him outright, by day; But at night, when the woods grow still and dim, The boldest will shrink away! O, when the
Page 54 - One gathers the fruit, one gathers the flowers, One soweth the seed again ! There is not a creature, from England's king, To the peasant that delves the soil, That knows half the pleasures the seasons bring, If he have not his share of toil! So,—sing, brothers,
Page 23 - rain, For the mariner curseth the warning bird Who bringeth him news of the storms unheard! Ah! thus does the prophet, of good or ill, Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still: Yet he ne'er
Page 50 - He. DOST thou love wandering? Whither would'st thou go? Dream'st thou, sweet daughter, of a land more fair ? Dost thou not love these aye-blue streams that flow ? These spicy forests ? and this golden air ? She. O, yes, I love the woods, and streams, so gay; And, more than all, O father, I love
Page 176 - CHILD of my heart! My sweet, beloved First-bom! Thou dove who tidings bring'st of calmer hours! Thou rainbow who dost shine when all the showers Are past,—or passing! Rose which hath no thorn,— No spot, no blemish,—pure, and unforlorn! Untouched, untainted! O, my Flower of flowers! More welcome than to bees are summer bowers, To stranded seamen life-assuring
Page 38 - To the bed that's poor. Peasants must weep, And kings endure; That is a fate that none can cure : Yet Spring doeth all she can, I trow : She brings the bright hours, She weaves the sweet flowers, XLV.—THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BRIDAL. Now, what shady wreath wilt wear,
Page 177 - watch throughout the night, To aid, when need may be; We hope,—and have despaired, at times; But now we turn to Thee! Send down thy sweet-souled angel, God! Amidst the darkness wild, And bid him soothe our souls to-night, And heal our gentle child!
Page 2 - So may my spirit cast (Serpent-like) off the past. And my free soul at last Have leave to ponder! And should'st thou 'scape control. Ponder on love, sweet Soul, On joy,—the end—the goal Of all endeavour! But if earth's pains will rise, (As damps will seek the skies,) Then, Night, seal thou mine eyes, X.—THE HUNTER'S SONG.
Page xxiii - AWAKE !—The starry midnight Hour Hangs charmed, and pauseth in its flight: In its own sweetness sleeps the flower ; And the doves lie hushed in deep delight! Awake ! Awake ! Look forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake ! Awake!—Soft dews will soon arise From daisied mead, and thorny brake ; Then, Sweet, uucloud those eastern eyes, And like the tender morning

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