Echoes of Life: Or, Beautiful Gems of Poetry & Song. A Choice Collection of Poetry & Prose ...Mrs. Grace Townsend |
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Page 20
... breast , Bare and beautiful , smooth and white , Seeking it ever with fresh delight , Cup of his life , and couch of his rest ? What does he think when her quick embrace Presses his hand and buries his face Deep where the heart - throbs ...
... breast , Bare and beautiful , smooth and white , Seeking it ever with fresh delight , Cup of his life , and couch of his rest ? What does he think when her quick embrace Presses his hand and buries his face Deep where the heart - throbs ...
Page 20
... breast , Bare and beautiful , smooth and white , Seeking it ever with fresh delight , Cup of his life , and couch of his rest ? What does he think when her quick embrace Presses his hand and buries his face Deep where the heart - throbs ...
... breast , Bare and beautiful , smooth and white , Seeking it ever with fresh delight , Cup of his life , and couch of his rest ? What does he think when her quick embrace Presses his hand and buries his face Deep where the heart - throbs ...
Page 23
... breast a bloom for heaven May take a blemish from the breath of love , And bear the blight forever . I have wept With gladness at the gift of this fair child ! My life is bound up in her . But , oh God ! Thou know'st how heavily my ...
... breast a bloom for heaven May take a blemish from the breath of love , And bear the blight forever . I have wept With gladness at the gift of this fair child ! My life is bound up in her . But , oh God ! Thou know'st how heavily my ...
Page 25
... breast to dream on , what a dear , brave heart for a woman to lean on , What a king and kingdom are saving up for some baby a twelvemonth old ! Twenty years hence , when I am forty , and Harry a young man , gay and naughty . Flirting ...
... breast to dream on , what a dear , brave heart for a woman to lean on , What a king and kingdom are saving up for some baby a twelvemonth old ! Twenty years hence , when I am forty , and Harry a young man , gay and naughty . Flirting ...
Page 28
... breast . But the day drifted on till it came to an end , And the great moon rose in sight . And the dear soft lids o'er the dear soft eyes Dropped tenderly their good - night And I thought , as I looked on her lying asleep , I was glad ...
... breast . But the day drifted on till it came to an end , And the great moon rose in sight . And the dear soft lids o'er the dear soft eyes Dropped tenderly their good - night And I thought , as I looked on her lying asleep , I was glad ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alfred Tennyson angels auld lang syne beauty bells bird bless bosom breast breath bright brow calm cheek child clouds cold dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth Elizabeth Barrett Browning eyes face fair father flowers Friendship golden gone grace grave gray grow hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hope hour John Greenleaf Whittier kiss laugh life's light lips live look Lord Lord Byron moon morning mother never Nevermore night o'er Percy Bysshe Shelley prayer rest ring Robert Burns rose round shine shore sigh silent sing sleep smile snow soft song sorrow soul stars stream sweet tears tell thee There's thine things Thomas Moore thou art thought tree Twas voice wave weary wild William Cullen Bryant wind wings words young youth
Popular passages
Page 247 - It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes; 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
Page 157 - Nevermore". "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted On this home by Horror haunted, - tell me truly, I implore Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!" Quoth the raven, "Nevermore". "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore Tell...
Page 269 - Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed— and gazed— but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward...
Page 277 - At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near. And soon that toil shall end ; Soon shalt thou find a summer home and rest, And scream among thy fellows ; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet, on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,...
Page 404 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Page 154 - Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells.' How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars, that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Page 398 - O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Page 389 - Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die: Into the valley of death Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them...
Page 398 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him. But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Page 256 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.