The Rose of Avondale

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Página 194 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchoring bark, Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge. That on th...
Página 192 - There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellow richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds.
Página 31 - Tis not for man to trifle ! Life is brief And sin is here ; Our age is but the falling of a leaf — A dropping tear ; We have no time to sport away the hours, All must be earnest in a world like ours.
Página 171 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Página 25 - Do something — do it soon — with all thy might ; An angel's wing would droop if long at rest, And God himself, inactive, were no longer blest.
Página 24 - Wouldst thou from sorrow find a sweet relief? Or is thy heart oppressed with woes untold ? Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief? Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold...
Página 57 - Rest, weary head ! Lie down to slumber in the peaceful tomb : Light from above has broken through its gloom ; Here, in the place where once thy Saviour lay, Where He shall wake thee on a future day, Like a tired child upon its mother's breast, Rest, sweetly rest...
Página 26 - And thou an angel's happiness shall know; Shalt bless the earth while in the world above ; The good begun by thee shall onward flow In many a branching stream, and wider grow; The seed that, in these few and fleeting hours, Thy hands unsparing and unwearied sow, Shall deck thy grave with amaranthine flowers, And yield thee fruits...
Página 56 - Rest, weary heart ! From all thy silent griefs, and secret pain, Thy profitless regrets and longings vain ; Wisdom and love have ordered all the past...

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