The Unpublished and Uncollected Poems of William Cowper

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T.F. Unwin, 1900 - 82 oldal

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78. oldal - Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary ! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and shine no more, My Mary...
80. oldal - And still to love, though prest with ill, In wintry age to feel no chill, With me is to be lovely still, My Mary ! But ah ! by constant heed I know, How oft the sadness that I show, Transforms thy smiles to looks of wo, My Mary ! And should my future lot be cast With much resemblance of, the past, Thy worn-out heart will break at last, My Mary ! ON THE ICE ISLANDS, SEEN FLOATING IN THE GERMAN 'JO.
78. oldal - For could I view nor them, nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me! My MARY! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign; Yet gently pressed, press gently mine! My MARY...
79. oldal - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light. My Mary ! For could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary...
48. oldal - My sole possession is thy love ; In earth beneath, or heaven above, I have no other store ; And though with fervent suit I pray, And importune thee night and day, I ask thee nothing more.
65. oldal - It seems idolatry, with some excuse, When our forefather Druids in their oaks Imagined sanctity.
65. oldal - Which babes might play with ; and the thievish jay, Seeking her food, with ease might have purloin'd The auburn nut that held thee, swallowing down Thy yet close-folded latitude of boughs And all thine embryo vastness at a gulp.
49. oldal - By Thy command, where'er I stray, Sorrow attends me all my way, A never-failing friend ; And if my sufferings may augment Thy praise, behold me well content, — Let sorrow still attend ! It...
67. oldal - Time made thee what thou wast, king of the woods ; And time hath made thee what thou art — a cave For owls to roost in. Once thy spreading boughs O'erhung the champaign ; and the numerous flocks That grazed it, stood beneath that ample cope Uncrowded, yet safe sheltered from the storm.
51. oldal - Which must for ever blaze ! To take the Cross and follow thee Where love and duty lead shall be My portion and my praise.

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