The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore, Volume 2

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Little, Brown & Company, 1856

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Página 244 - JACK and Jill went up the hill, To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down and broke his crown And Jill came tumbling after.
Página 37 - They tell of a young man, who lost his mind upon the death of a girl he loved, and who, suddenly disappearing from his friends, was never afterwards heard of. As he had frequently said, in his ravings, that the girl was not dead, but gone to the Dismal Swamp, it is supposed he had wandered into that dreary wilderness, and had died of hunger, or been lost in some of its dreadful morasses.
Página 99 - I KNEW, by the smoke that so gracefully curled Above the green elms, that a cottage was near, And I said, "If there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here...
Página 100 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Página 268 - Was this then the fate,' — future ages will say, When some names shall live but in History's curse ; When Truth will be heard, and these Lords of a day Be forgotten as fools, or remembered as worse ; —
Página 38 - They made her a grave, too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true ; And she's gone to the lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where, all night long, by a firefly lamp, She paddles her white canoe. " And her firefly lamp I soon shall see, And her paddle I soon shall hear ; Long and loving our life shall be, And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree, When the footstep of Death is near...
Página 96 - From man the savage, whether slaved or free, To man the civilized, less tame than he ! 'Tis one dull chaos, one unfertile strife, Betwixt...
Página 83 - This embryo capital, where Fancy sees Squares in morasses, obelisks in trees ; Which second-sighted seers, ev'n now, adorn With shrines unbuilt and heroes yet unborn, Though nought but ~woods and Jefferson they see, Where streets should run and sages ought to be.
Página 27 - Oh ! such a blessed night as this, I often think, if friends were near, How we should feel, and gaze with bliss Upon the moon-bright scenery here! The sea is like a silvery lake, And, o'er its calm the vessel glides Gently, as if it feared to wake The slumber of the silent tides...
Página 101 - But when the wind blows off the shore, Oh ! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past...

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