Poems of Womanhood

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G. Coolidge, 1861 - 128 oldal

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67. oldal - Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight, Make me a child again, just for to-night! Mother, come back from the echoless shore, Take me again to your heart, as of yore; Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair; Over my slumbers your loving watch keep; — Rock me to sleep, mother, —rock me to sleep ! Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
63. oldal - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
68. oldal - Come, let your brown hair just lighted with gold Fall on your shoulders again as of old : Let it drop over my forehead to-night, Shading my faint eyes away from the light ; For with its sunny-edged shadows once more Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore ; Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep ; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.
53. oldal - Aye, on the boy he looks, The bright glad creature springing in his path, But as the heir of his great name, the young And stately tree, whose rising strength ere long Shall bear his trophies well.
36. oldal - While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe ; And craves no other tribute at thy hands But love, fair looks, and true obedience — Too little payment for so great a debt.
26. oldal - After the evening prayer, And speak of what these pages said, In tones my heart would thrill! Though they are with the silent dead, Here are they living still! My father read this Holy Book To brothers, sisters dear...
25. oldal - THIS book is all that's left me now, — Tears will unbidden start, — With faltering lip and throbbing brow I press it to my heart. For many generations past Here is our family tree ; My mother's hands this Bible clasped, She, dying, gave it me.
4. oldal - One chord that any other hand Could better wake or still? Speak now - lest at some future day my whole life wither and decay. Lives there within thy nature hid The demon-spirit Change, Shedding a passing glory still On all things new and strange? It may not be thy fault alone - but shield my heart against thy own.
104. oldal - Unto the Temple service: — by the hand She led him, and her silent soul, the while, Oft as the dewy laughter of his eye Met her sweet serious glance, rejoiced to think That aught so pure, so beautiful, was hers, To bring before her God.
16. oldal - And he look'd at her and said, " Bring the dress and put it on her, That she wore when she was wed.

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