Poetry and Prose

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A. Tompkins, 1850 - 440 sider
 

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Side 223 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Side 438 - And mony a canty day, John, We 've had wi' ane anither. Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we '11 go : And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo.
Side 19 - How pure at heart and sound in head, With what divine affections bold Should be the man whose thought would hold An hour's communion with the dead. In vain shalt thou, or any, call The spirits from their golden day, Except, like them, thou too canst say, My spirit is at peace with all.
Side 79 - In those fall'n leaves which kept their green, The noble letters of the dead : And strangely on the silence broke The silent-speaking words, and strange Was love's dumb cry defying change To test his worth ; and strangely spoke The faith, the vigour, bold to dwell On doubts that drive the coward back, And keen thro' wordy snares to track Suggestion to her inmost cell.
Side 79 - About empyreal heights of thought, And came on that which is, and caught The deep pulsations of the world...
Side 93 - O that I had wings like a dove : for then would I flee away, and be at rest.
Side 34 - ... have been induced to begin, would in all probability have gone great lengths in the career of fame.
Side 33 - A great deal of talent is lost in the world for the want of a little courage. Every day sends to their graves a number of obscure men who have only remained...
Side 99 - And they heard a great voice from heaven saying unto them, Come up hither. And they ascended up to heaven in a cloud ; and their enemies beheld them.
Side 85 - At peril of his life — who shed great thoughts As easily as an oak looseneth its golden leaves In a kindly largess to the soil it grew on — Whose rich dark ivy thoughts, sunned o'er with love, Flourish around the deathless stems of their names — Whose names are ever on the world's broad tongue, Like sound upon the falling of a force — Whose words, if winged, are with angels...

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