The Vision of Justice, and Other PoemsWard, 1879 - 117 страница |
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awful BEETON'S Bendemeer beneath bloom bower breast breathed bright brow calm charms Coloured Plates COOKERY countenance divine dance dark dear death Devonian dream e'en e'er Emma ev'ry eyes faded fair fame fear flowers GARDENING gaze gently Gerusalemme Liberata gleam glorious glow Goddess grace grief hear Heaven hope hour HYDE PARKER IDEM LATINE REDDITUM isle joys Justice King Kiss of Death Knave of Hearts light limaces Lurley Mabel maid Malaprop manicas mermaids merry mocking moonstone mortal mournful Moxon's ne'er neath nigh night o'er oaken once Perchance Poets pride quadrille Queen of Scots rest Rio verde rose Sartore seemed shine shone shore sigh sight silent sing sleep smile song sparkling spirit stanza strange stream strive sweet tears thee thine thou hast thought thro tomb Town Rat Twas Undine vanished voice wave ween Where'er wild wing words
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Страница 86 - There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.
Страница 96 - Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn.
Страница 86 - And a dew was distill'd from their flowers that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, , An essence that breathes of it many a year ; Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer...
Страница 90 - If the man who turnips cries, Cry not when his father dies, 'Tis a proof that he had rather Have a turnip than his father.
Страница 86 - twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. That bower and its music I never forget, But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think — is the nightingale singing there yet ? Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER?
Страница 88 - A REFLECTION AT SEA. SEE how, beneath the moonbeam's smile, Yon little billow heaves its breast, And foams and sparkles for a while, And murmuring then subsides to rest. Thus man, the sport of bliss and care, Rises on Time's eventful sea ; And, having swell'da moment there, Thus melts into eternity ! AN INVITATION TO SUPPER TO MRS.