Poetical Remains of the Late Lucy HooperS. Colman, 1842 - 291 páginas |
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POETICAL REMAINS OF THE LATE L Lucy 1816-1841 Hooper,John 1805-1856 Keese Sin vista previa disponible - 2016 |
Términos y frases comunes
beauty bitter blessed blest bloom brave breath bright Brooklyn brow cast cheek cherished cloud crown dark death deep deep heart dirge dreams early earth earthly faded fair fair brow Fair lady faith fame fear feel flowers fond gaze gentle gift Give me armor glance gleams glorious glory glow grave greet grief hall of light hath heart Heaven holy hope hour hues Hungary JOSEPH HOOPER lady Life's light lingered linked lips lonely Lord Love's lyre memory mind Miss Hooper MISS LUCY HOOPER neath night noble o'er pale pass past prayed prayer pure quiet radiant rest rich scene shine shone silent smile soft soft eyes song sorrow soul Spanish main spirit star sunny sweet tears thee thy daughter thine thou thoughts thrilling throng tone trust Turquoise Ring unto visions voice wake watched weary ween wild young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 29 - And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine; A being, breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller between life and death ; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength and skill; A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort; and command. And yet a spirit, still and bright With something of an angel light.
Página 29 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food: For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Página 38 - Epitaph on Elizabeth, LH Wouldst thou hear what man can say In a little? Reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as could die; Which in life did harbor give To more virtue than doth live. If at all she had a fault, Leave it buried in this vault. One name was Elizabeth, Th' other let it sleep with death; Fitter, where it died to tell, Than that it lived at all.
Página 89 - I pray, Take it ; the still, pale sorrow of the face Hath left upon my soul its living trace, Never to pass away, Since from these lips one word of idle breath, Blanched that calm face — oh! mother, this is death! What is it that I see From all the pure and settled features gleaming ? Reproach ! reproach ! My dreams are strange and wild. Mother ! hadst thou no pity on thy child...
Página 114 - Alas ! our young affections run to waste, Or water but the desert ; whence arise But weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of haste, Rank at the core, though tempting to the eyes, Flowers whose wild odours breathe but agonies, And trees whose gums are poison ; such the plants Which spring beneath her steps as Passion flies O'er the world's wilderness, and vainly pants For some celestial fruit forbidden to our wants.
Página 240 - Each soft tic and true that forbade me to part ; Bring the sword of Damascus — its blade cold and bright, That bends not in conflict, but gleams in the fight ; And stay — let me fasten yon scarf on my breast, Love's light pledge and true — I will answer the rest ! Give me...
Página 187 - ... but go back To their quiet hours, and tread once more Their bright, familiar track — Could we picture again what we pictured then, Of the sunny world that lay From the green hillside, and the waters wide. And our glad hearts far away ! The old days we remember, When we never dreamed of guile, Nor knew that the heart could be cold below, While the lip still wore its smile ! Oh. we may not forget, for those hours come yet ; They visit us in sleep, While far and wide, o'er life's changing tide,...
Página 260 - Lesothers strive thy glowing wreaths to bind — Let others seek thy false and dazzling gleams : For me their light went out on early streams, And faded were thy roses in my grasp, No more, no more to bloom. Yet as the stars, the holy stars of night, Shine out when all is dark, So would I, cheered by hopes more purely bright, Tread still the thorny path whose close is light, If, but at last, the tossed and weary bark Gains the sure haven of her final rest.
Página 3 - Dark hour ! once more its woes unfold ; As then I saw thee, pale and cold, I see thee still. I see thee still : Thou art not in the grave confined, Death cannot claim the immortal mind ; Let earth close o'er its sacred trust, But goodness dies not in the dust...
Página 203 - Aught richer than that battlefield Which tells of thy renown ? Home of the pilgrim sires who crossed The waste and trackless sea, Was it not meet that on thy soil The first brave strife should be? Dear to thy children in thy home, Dear to thine exiles far; To Freedom's sons in every...