An Anthology of Mother Verse

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Houghton Mifflin, 1917 - 194 páginas

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Página 45 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, ' Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!
Página 70 - But peaceful was the night, Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began...
Página 121 - And, sitting down before the heat of day, She took me on her lap and kissed me, And. pointing to the east, began to say: "Look on the rising sun: there God does live, And gives his light, and gives his heat away; And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday. "And we are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love; And these black bodies and this sunburnt face Are but a cloud and like a shady grove.
Página 70 - But He, her fears to cease, Sent down the meek-eyed Peace : She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere, His ready harbinger, With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing ; And waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.
Página 46 - I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such ? It was.
Página 48 - Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay ; So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reached the shore, " Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,"* And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Página 169 - SHE was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight ; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament...
Página 48 - When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, 75 The violet, the pink, and jessamine, I pricked them into paper with a pin, (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile), Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.
Página 73 - The oracles are dumb ; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
Página 45 - Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 0 welcome guest, though unexpected here! Who bidst me honour with an artless song, Affectionate, a mother lost so long. 1 will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly as the precept were her own: And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream, that thou art she.

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