This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1860 Excerpt: ...Eeposing on their sweets, the sleeping stream No whispering leaf awakes. Oh moments bright! When Contemplation heavenward lifts her eye, And tender Memory, with rapt delight, Turns her full page, dear melancholy joy! Still be thou mine, when day's retiring light Gleams faint and tremulous in the western sky. r TO THE ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1860 Excerpt: ...Eeposing on their sweets, the sleeping stream No whispering leaf awakes. Oh moments bright! When Contemplation heavenward lifts her eye, And tender Memory, with rapt delight, Turns her full page, dear melancholy joy! Still be thou mine, when day's retiring light Gleams faint and tremulous in the western sky. r TO THE EOBIN. Wabbles of the rosy breast, and the merry sparkling eye, Of all the birds I love thee best; Bobin, shall I tell thee why? When the minstrel of the night from our groves has taken flight, When the merry Thrush is mute, hushed the Blackbird's mellow flute, When the seraph Lark no more his hymn of raptured praise doth pour, Then I hear thy cheerful lay, trilling through the wintry day; Then I see, in many a row, thy tiny footprints in the snow. Duly as the morning comes, to seek thy dole of scattered crumbs, There thou art with head awry, and frequent hop and glancing eye; Trusting Kobin, come thou still to my well-spread window sill. Well thou know'st there's nought to fear, thou art ever welcome here, Warbler of the rosy breast! this is why I love thee best. r SHE MOUBNETH IN SECBET. This eye is never seen to weep, The world believes me gay; Within its chambers dark and deep, My bosom's secret sorrows sleep, Hid from the garish day. But oh when darkness wraps the skies, My restless couch I seek, Night! thou art witness to my sighs, My clasping hands, my streaming eyes, My pale, disordered cheek. When peaceful bosoms find repose, I count each gloomy hour, And if o'erspent with bitter woes, My weary, aching eyelids close, Touched by the " balmy power." Ah me! in visionary skies Unreal splendours gleam, While phantom flowers gaily rise--I start, I lift my languid eyes, And mourn the vanished dream. IMPROMPTU. In vain for me is natu...
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