Poetical Sketches: The Profession, the Broken Heart, Etc. : with Stanzas for Music, and Other Poems

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Hurst, Robinson, 1824 - 189 oldal
 

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23. oldal - That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts Have followed; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense.
98. oldal - Peace. brother, be not over-exquisite To cast the fashion of uncertain evils; For grant they be so, while they rest unknown, What need a man forestall his date of grief, And run to meet what he would most avoid ? Or if they be but false alarms of fear, How bitter is such self-delusion!
vii. oldal - Though thou be to them a scorn, That to nought but earth are born, Let my life no longer be Than I am in love with thee...
187. oldal - Nothing can be more touching than to behold a soft and tender female, who had been all weakness and dependence, and alive to every trivial roughness while treading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in mental force, to be the comforter and supporter of her husband under misfortune, and abiding, with unshrinking firmness, the bitterest blasts of adversity?
39. oldal - twould almost seem, As though, epitomized in one deep beam, Her full collected soul upon the heart, Whate'er its mask, she strove at once to dart : And few may brave the talisman that's hid 'Neath the dark fringes of her drooping lid.
41. oldal - Unkindness and neglect from those she loves, Because she feels it undeserved ; which proves That firm and conscious rectitude hath power To blunt Fate's darts in sorrow's darkest hour. Ay, unprovoked, injustice she can bear Without a sigh — almost without a tear, Save such as hearts internally will weep, And they ne'er rise the burning lids to steep ; But to those petty wrongs which half defy Human forbearance, she can make reply With a proud lip, and a contemptuous eye.
24. oldal - I, too, am changed — I scarce know why — Can feel each flagging pulse decay; And youth and health, and visions high, Melt like a wreath of snow away; Time cannot sure have wrought the ill; Though worn in this world's sickening strife, In soul and form, I linger still In the first summer month of life; Yet journey on my path below, Oh ! how unlike — ten years ago...
iii. oldal - The moving accident is not my trade; To freeze the blood I have no ready arts: 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
183. oldal - The whole process which condemns a female " to wither on the virgin thorn," and " live a barren sister all her life," is studiously made to represent a wedding. The unconscious victim, generally in her fifteenth year, finds herself, for some time previous to her taking the veil, the queen — nay, the idol of the whole community which has obtained her preference.
183. oldal - ... is studiously made to represent a wedding. The unconscious victim, generally in her fifteenth year, finds herself, for some time previous to her taking the veil, the queen— nay, the idol of the whole community which has obtained her preference. She is constantly addressed by the name of bride, and sees nothing but gay preparations for the expected day of her spiritual nuptials. Attired in a splendid dress, and decked with all the jewels of her family and friends, she takes public leave of her...

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