Poems

Capa
Appleton, 1847 - 258 páginas
 

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Página 29 - The twilight hours, like birds, flew by, As lightly and as free ; Ten thousand stars were in the sky, Ten thousand on the sea : , For every wave with dimpled face, That leaped upon the air, Had caught a star in its embrace And held it trembling there.
Página 11 - Deity, calmly unfurled, It bent from the cloud, and encircled the world. There are moments, I think, when the spirit receives Whole volumes of thought on its unwritten leaves; When the folds of the heart in a moment unclose, Like the innermost leaves from the heart of a rose...
Página 61 - And the deep flow of far-off rivers, And the loud rush of many floods ; All these, and more, stir in my bosom Feelings that make my spirit glad, Like dew-drops shaken in a blossom ; And, yet there is a something sad...
Página 258 - She feels her inmost soul within her stir With thoughts too wild and passionate to speak ; Yet her full heart — its own interpreter — Translates itself in silence on her cheek. Joy's opening buds, affection's glowing flowers, Once...
Página 18 - A free wild spirit unto thee is given, Bright minstrel of the blue celestial dome ! For thou wilt wander to yon upper heaven, And bathe thy plumage in the sunbeam's home ; And, soaring upward from thy dizzy height On free and fearless wing, be lost to human sight. Lute of the summer clouds ! whilst...
Página 29 - One fleecy cloud upon the air Was all that met my eyes ; It floated like an angel there Between me and the skies ; I clapped my hands and warbled wild, As here and there I flew, For I was but a careless child, And did as children do.
Página 22 - Tis ours alone, with sighs like odors shed. To hold them unforgot ! Thine is as sad a strain As if the spirit in thy hidden cell Pined to be with the many things, that dwell In the wild restless main. And yet there is no sound Upon the waters, whispered by the waves, But seemeth like a wail from many graves, Thrilling the air around.
Página 85 - The birds! the birds of summer hours They bring a gush of glee, To the child among the fragrant flowers, To the sailor on the sea. We hear their thrilling voices In their swift and airy flight, And the inmost heart rejoices With a calm and pure delight. Amid the morning's fragrant dew, Amidst the mists of even, They warble on, as if they drew Their music down from Heaven.
Página 183 - In stature majestic, apart from the throng He stood in his beauty, the theme of my song ! His cheek pale with fervor — the blue orbs above Lit up with the splendors of youth and of love ; Yet the heart-glowing raptures, that beamed from those eyes, Seemed saddened by...

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