The Choice Gift: Or Golden Sands, from the River of Literature ...

Forside
Sarah C. Carter
J. Buffum, 1850 - 128 sider
 

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Side 65 - E'er wore his crown as loftily as he Wears the green coronal of leaves with which Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower, With scented breath, and look so like a smile, Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould, An emanation of the indwelling Life, A visible token of the upholding Love, That are the soul of this wide universe.
Side 111 - TO him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Side 64 - In music ; — thou art in the cooler breath That from the inmost darkness of the place Comes, scarcely felt ; the barky trunks, the ground, The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with thee. Here is continual worship; — nature, here, In the tranquillity that thou dost love, Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around, From perch to perch, the solitary bird Passes ; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs, Wells softly forth and visits the strong roots Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale...
Side 63 - Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns, thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun. Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow, Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died Among their branches, till, at last, they stood, As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark, Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold Communion with...
Side 62 - THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave. And spread the roof above them, — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Side 112 - Thou hast been out upon the deep at play, Riding all day the wild blue waves till now, Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea.
Side 19 - LOST ! lost ! lost ! A gem of countless price, Cut from the living rock, And graved in Paradise. Set round with three times eight Large diamonds, clear and bright, And each with sixty smaller ones, All changeful as the light. Lost — where the thoughtless throng In fashion's mazes wind, Where trilleth folly's song, Leaving a sting behind ; Yet to my hand 't was given A golden harp to buy, Such as the white-robed choir attune To deathless minstrelsy.
Side 78 - And what have ye found in the monarch's dome, Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam ? — " We have found a change, we have found a pall, And a gloom o'ershadowing the banquet's hall, And a mark on the floor as of life-drops spilt — Nought looks the same, save the nest we built...
Side 38 - MOTHER, mother, the winds are at play, Prithee, let me be idle to-day. Look, dear mother, the flowers all lie Languidly under the bright blue sky. See, how slowly the streamlet glides; Look, how the violet roguishly hides; Even the butterfly rests on the rose, And scarcely sips the sweets as he goes. Poor Tray is asleep in the noon-day sun, And the flies go about him one by one; And pussy sits near with a sleepy grace, Without ever thinking of washing her face. There flies a bird to a...
Side 119 - Tis the still water faileth ; Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ; Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth ; Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Labor is glory ! — the flying cloud lightens ; Only the waving wing changes and brightens ; Idle hearts only the dark future frightens; Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune...

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