Flowers of poetry, for young persons: a companion to miss Taylor's Original poems. 2vols, 2. kötet

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65. oldal - Hark ! they whisper ; angels say, ' Sister Spirit, come away ! ' What is this absorbs me quite ? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath ? Tell me, my soul, can this be Death...
51. oldal - STAY, lady, stay, for mercy's sake. And hear a helpless orphan's tale ; Ah ! sure my looks must pity wake ; 'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale. Yet I was once a mother's pride, And my brave father's hope and joy; But in the Nile's proud fight he died, And I am now an orphan boy. "Poor foolish child, how pleased was I, When news of Nelson's victory came, Along the crowded streets to fly, And see the lighted windows...
105. oldal - HOW happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill...
141. oldal - How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
106. oldal - Who God doth late and early pray More of His grace than gifts to lend; And entertains the harmless day With a religious book or friend ; —This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands ; And having nothing, yet hath all.
18. oldal - When the dew wets its leaves ; unstain'd and pure, As is the lily, or the mountain snow. The modest virtues mingled in her eyes, Still on the ground dejected, darting all Their humid beams into the blooming...
35. oldal - No more by varying passions beat, O gently guide my pilgrim feet To find thy hermit cell ; "Where in some pure and equal sky, Beneath thy soft indulgent eye, The modest virtues dwelt.
109. oldal - On piety, humanity is built ; And, on humanity, much happiness ; And yet still more on piety itself. A soul in commerce with her God, is heaven ; Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life ; The whirls of passions, and the strokes of heart.
116. oldal - MINE be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near.
109. oldal - Each branch of piety delight inspires: Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides...

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