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bear beautiful bless breast breath bright brow bucket chair child clouds cold comes dark death deep earth face fade fair faith fall Father fear feeling flowers FOREST give given glowing gone green hand hath hear heart heaven holy hope hour household human kind kind to thy land leaves less light lips live look Lord mind morning Nature ne'er never nigh night o'er Ocean once passing prayer pride remember rest rock round seemed shadow sigh silent smile song soon sorrow soul sound Speak Speak gently spirit spring storm sweet tears tell thee things thou Thou art Thou hast thought trees true trust truth turn Twas voice watch wave weary wild wind wood youth
Page 106 - twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane— as I do here.
Page 105 - Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ? Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou; Unchangeable save to thy wild waves
Page 38 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!
Page 39 - Affectionate, a mother lost so long, 1 will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own : And, while that face renews my filial grief. Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art she.
Page 63 - But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade, and glen, And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home ; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light...
Page 42 - My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; But higher far my proud pretensions rise — The son of parents passed into the skies.
Page 72 - And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Page 83 - Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try : Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high.