The Poetical Works of Letitia Elizabeth Landon: The improvisatrice. Tales and miscellaneous poems. Fragments. Ballads

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Longman, Brown, Green & Longmans, 1844
 

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Page 234 - OH never another dream can be Like that early dream of ours, When the fairy Hope lay down to sleep, Like a child, among the flowers. But Hope has waken'd since, and wept, Like a rainbow, itself away ; And the flowers have faded and fallen around We have none for a wreath to-day. Now Wisdom wakes in the place of Hope, And our hearts are like winter hours : Ah ! after-life has been little worth That early dream of ours.
Page iii - Aware that to elevate I must first soften, and that if I wished to purify I must first touch, I have ever endeavoured to bring forward grief, disappointment, the fallen leaf, the faded flower, the broken heart, and the early grave.
Page 185 - O'er forehead more divine. The light of midnight's starry heaven Is in those radiant eyes; The rose's crimson life has given That cheek its morning dyes.
Page 92 - Can that man be dead Whose spiritual influence is upon his kind? He lives in glory; and his speaking dust Has more of life than half its breathing moulds.
Page 103 - The more his power, the greater is his grief. — Are we then fallen from some noble star, Whose consciousness is as an unknown curse, And we feel capable of happiness Only to know it is not of our sphere? I have sung passionate songs of beating hearts; Perhaps it had been better they had drawn Their inspiration from an inward source. Had I known even an unhappy love, It would have flung an interest round life Mine never knew.
Page 256 - Pis taught by caution now. I live among the cold, the false, And I must seem like them ; And such I am, for I am false As those I most condemn. I teach my lip its sweetest smile, My tongue its softest tone ; I borrow others' likeness, till Almost I lose my own.
Page 124 - Now 1 have no hope that does not dream for thee ; I have no joy that is not shared by thee ; I have no fear that does not dread for thee. All that I once took pleasure in, — my lute Is only sweet when it repeats thy name ; My flowers, I only gather...
Page 262 - Will the young maiden, when her tears Alone in moonlight shine — Tears for the absent and the loved — Murmur some song of mine ? Will the pale youth by his dim lamp, Himself a dying flame, From many an antique scroll beside, Choose that which bears my name ? T Let music make less terrible The silence of the dead ; I care not, so my spirit last Long after life has fled.
Page 275 - And shadows of long-vanish'd years Are passing sadly o'er me. The friends I loved in early youth, The faithless and forgetting, Whom, though they were not worth my love, I cannot help regretting ; — My feelings, once the kind, the warm, But now the hard, the frozen ; The errors I've too long pursued, The path I should have chosen ; — The hopes that are like...
Page 104 - I have sung passionate songs of beating hearts; Perhaps it had been better they had drawn Their inspiration from an inward source. Had I known even an unhappy love, It would have flung an interest round life Mine never knew. This is an empty wish; Our feelings are not fires to light at will Our nature's fine and subtle mysteries; We may control them, but may not create, And Love less than its fellows.

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