Forget-me-not: Or, the Philipena

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N.L. Dayton, 1852 - English poetry - 128 pages

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Page 14 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Page 13 - With ardour as intense, as pure, As when, amidst the rites divine, I took thy troth, and plighted mine), To thee, sweet girl, my second ring A token and a pledge I bring : With this I wed, till death us part, Thy riper virtues to my heart ; Those virtues which, before untried, The wife has added to the bride ; Those virtues, whose progressive claim, Endearing wedlock's very name, My soul enjoys, my song approves, For conscience
Page 38 - Atheist's laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended ! When ranting round in pleasure's ring. Religion may be blinded ; Or, if she gie a random sting, It may be little minded ; But when on life we're tempest-driv'n, A conscience but a canker — A correspondence fix'd wi...
Page 118 - So brief our existence, a glimpse, at the most, Is all we can have of the few we hold dear ; And oft even joy is unheeded and lost, For want of some heart, that could echo it, near. Ah, well may we hope, when this short life is gone, To meet in some world of more permanent bliss, For a smile, or a grasp of the hand, hast'ning on, Is all we enjoy of each other in this.
Page 81 - Th' imperfect picture o'er again, With power to add, retouch, efface The lights and shades, the joy and pain, How little of the past would stay ! How quickly all should melt away — All — but that freedom of the mind Which hath been more than wealth to me ; Those friendships, in my boyhood twined, And kept till now unchangingly ; And that dear home, that saving ark, Where Love's true light at last I 've found, Cheering within, when all grows dark, And comfortless, and stormy round ! FANCY.
Page 14 - I remember, I remember, Where I was used to swing; And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing: My spirit flew in feathers then, That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow!
Page 38 - LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend, A something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve nae ither end Than just a kind memento ; But how the subject theme may gang, Let time and chance determine ; Perhaps, it may turn out a sang, Perhaps, turn out a sermon.
Page 81 - tis not thus the voice, that dwells In sober birth-days, speaks to me; Far otherwise - of time it tells...
Page 23 - FOR what shall I praise thee, my. God and my king? For what blessings the tribute of gratitude bring ? Shall I praise thee for pleasure, for health, and for ease ? For the spring of delight, and the sunshine of peace ? Shall I praise thee...
Page 85 - O Memory ! thou fond deceiver, Still importunate and vain, To former joys recurring ever, And turning all the past to pain...

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