Epistles, Odes, and Other Poems, Volumen2

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J. Carpenter, 1807
 

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Página 135 - 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 141 - In one vast volume down Niagara's steep, Or calm behold them, in transparent sleep, Where the blue hills of old Toronto shed Their evening shadows o'er Ontario's bed...
Página 107 - How blest could I live, and how calm could I die ! By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berry dips In the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline, And to know that I sigh'd upon innocent lips, Which had never been sigh'd on by any but mine !
Página 107 - 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 27 - The weary statesman for repose hath fled From halls of council to his negro's shed, Where blest he woos some black Aspasia's grace. And dreams of freedom in his slave's embrace...
Página 29 - Excepting the streets and avenues and a small part of the ground adjoining the public buildings, the whole place is covered with trees. To be under the necessity of going through a deep wood for one or two miles, perhaps, in order to see a next-door neighbor, and in the same city, is a curious and, I believe, a novel circumstance.
Página 135 - There is not a breath the blue wave to curl, 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.
Página 77 - TELL me the witching tale again, For never has my heart or ear Hung on so sweet, so pure a strain, So pure to feel, so sweet to hear ! Say, Love ! in all thy spring of fame, When the high heaven itself was thine ; When piety...
Página 153 - Yon shadowy bark hath been to that wreck. And the dim blue fire, that lights her deck, Doth play on as pale and livid a crew As ever yet drank the churchyard dew. To Deadman's Isle, in the eye of the blast, To...
Página 1 - I DO confess, in many a sigh, My lips have breath'd you many a lie, And who with such delights in view, Would lose them, for a lie or two ? Nay— look not thus, with brow reproving ; Lies are, my dear, the soul...

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