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Seite 95 - I pray you, speak not ; he grows worse and worse; Question enrages him : at once, good night : — Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once.
Seite 33 - 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 ? No, the roses soon wither'd that hung o'er the wave, But some blossoms were gather'd, while freshly they shone, And a dew was distill'd from their flowers that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight,...
Seite 33 - 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 124 - Sweets to the sweet : farewell ! [ Scattering flowers. I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife ; I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, And not have strew'd thy grave.
Seite 40 - In such an hour he turns, and on his view, Ocean, and earth, and heaven, burst before him ; Clouds slumbering at his feet, and the clear blue Of summer's sky in beauty bending o'er him — The city bright below ; and far away, Sparkling in golden light, his own romantic bay.
Seite 39 - Amid thy forest solitudes, he climbs O'er crags that proudly tower above the deep, And knows that sense of danger, which sublimes The breathless moment — when his daring step Is on the verge of the cliff, and he can hear The low dash of the wave with startled ear, Like the death-music of his coming doom...
Seite 68 - Young thoughts have music in them, love, And happiness their theme ; And music wanders in the wind That lulls a morning dream. And there are angel voices heard, In childhood's frolic hours, When life is but an April day, Of sunshine and of ilowers.
Seite 3 - Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots ; Their port was more than human, as they stood : I took it for a faery vision Of some gay creatures of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play i
Seite 39 - WEEHAWKEN ! in thy mountain scenery yet, All we adore of Nature, in her wild And frolic hour of infancy, is met ; And never has a summer's morning smiled . Upon a lovelier scene, than the full eye Of the enthusiast revels on — when high, Amid thy forest solitudes, he climbs O'er crags that proudly tower above the deep, And knows that sense of danger, which sublimes The breathless moment — when his daring step Is on the verge of the cliff, and he can hear The low dash of the wave with startled...