Sacred PoetryJ. Crockford, 1854 - 236 страница |
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Страница 14
... gaze Ached with its deathly stillness . It was night- And softly o'er the Sea of Galilee Danced the breeze - ridden ripples to the shore , Tipp'd with the silver sparkles of the moon . The breaking waves play'd low upon the beach Their ...
... gaze Ached with its deathly stillness . It was night- And softly o'er the Sea of Galilee Danced the breeze - ridden ripples to the shore , Tipp'd with the silver sparkles of the moon . The breaking waves play'd low upon the beach Their ...
Страница 15
... gaze , And as the twelve look'd on him , by the light Of the clear moon they saw a glistening tear Steal to his silver beard , and drawing nigh Unto the Saviour's feet , he took the hem Of his coarse mantle , and with trembling hands ...
... gaze , And as the twelve look'd on him , by the light Of the clear moon they saw a glistening tear Steal to his silver beard , and drawing nigh Unto the Saviour's feet , he took the hem Of his coarse mantle , and with trembling hands ...
Страница 38
... gaze Through golden vistas into heaven ; Those hues that mark the sun's decline , So soft , so radiant , Lord ! are thine . When night , with wings of starry gloom , O'ershadows all the earth and skies , Like some dark , beauteous bird ...
... gaze Through golden vistas into heaven ; Those hues that mark the sun's decline , So soft , so radiant , Lord ! are thine . When night , with wings of starry gloom , O'ershadows all the earth and skies , Like some dark , beauteous bird ...
Страница 50
... gaze may rest on skeleton forms , Yet his tones are light and loud . He digs the grave , and his chime will break As he gains a fathom deep : Whoever lies in the bed I make , I warrant will soundly sleep ! He piles the sod , he raises ...
... gaze may rest on skeleton forms , Yet his tones are light and loud . He digs the grave , and his chime will break As he gains a fathom deep : Whoever lies in the bed I make , I warrant will soundly sleep ! He piles the sod , he raises ...
Страница 55
... 'd , What hast thou more to boast of ? will thy lovers Flock round thee now , to gaze and do thee homage ? Methinks I see thee , with thy head laid low , Whilst surfeited upon thy damask cheek The high - fed SACRED POETRY . 55.
... 'd , What hast thou more to boast of ? will thy lovers Flock round thee now , to gaze and do thee homage ? Methinks I see thee , with thy head laid low , Whilst surfeited upon thy damask cheek The high - fed SACRED POETRY . 55.
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angels beam beauty behold beneath Blackwood's Magazine blessed blest bliss bloom breast breath bright brow Casa Wappy Christ clouds dark dead death divine dost doth dread dream dust dust to dust earth earthly eternal fair fear flame flowers gaze GEORGE CROLY gloom glorious glory God's grace grave grief hallow'd hand hath heart heaven heavenly holy hope Hosanna hour immortal JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL light lips living lonely look'd Lord mercy morn mortal mountains mourn N. P. WILLIS night o'er pale peace praise prayer rapture rest rise round S. T. COLERIDGE seem'd seraph shade shine sigh silent sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star of Bethlehem stars stood sweet tears temple thee thine things THOMAS MOORE thou art Thou hast thought throne tomb trembling turn'd unto vale voice wandering waves wild WILLIAM ALLINGHAM wind wings
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Страница 38 - THOU art, O God ! the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see ; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from thee. Where'er we turn thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine.
Страница 45 - AND is there care in heaven? And is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move ? There is...
Страница 84 - More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If knowing G-od, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Страница 199 - There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, Still sing the God of Seasons, as they roll. For me, when I forget the darling theme, Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams, Or Winter rises in the blackening east ; Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat.
Страница 64 - See, a long race thy spacious courts adorn; See future sons, and daughters yet unborn, In crowding ranks on every side arise, Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
Страница 28 - Like to the falling of a star; Or as the flights of eagles are; Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue; Or silver drops of morning dew; Or like a wind that chafes the flood; Or bubbles which on water stood; Even such is man, whose borrowed light Is straight called in, and paid to night. The wind blows out; the bubble dies; The spring entombed in autumn lies; The dew dries up; the star is shot; The flight is past; and man forgot.
Страница 87 - Thou art not certain ; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the moon. If thou art rich, thou art poor ; For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee.
Страница 80 - Let us be patient! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise. We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.
Страница 139 - How oft do they their silver bowers leave, To come to succour us that succour want ! How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting...
Страница 43 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.