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Seite 127 - twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. That bower and its music I never forget, But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think — is the nightingale singing there yet ? Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER?
Seite 151 - I COME, I come ! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song, Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
Seite 126 - There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.
Seite 152 - Where the violets lie may be now your home. Ye of the rose-lip and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly ! With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine— I may not stay.
Seite 14 - Come on, sir. Now you set your foot on shore In Novo Orbe ; here's the rich Peru : And there within, sir, are the golden mines, Great Solomon's Ophir! he was sailing to't, Three years, but we have reached it in ten months. This is the day wherein, to all my friends, I will pronounce the happy word, BE RICH ; THIS DAY YOU SHALL BE SPECTATISSIMI.