The Poetical Works of Henry Kirke White

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Bell and Daldy, 1830 - 221 страници

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Страница 215 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, —...
Страница 227 - It was my guide, my light, my all, it bade my dark forebodings cease ; and through the storm and danger's thrall it led me to the port of peace. Now safely moored — my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, for ever and for evermore, the Star— The Star of Bethlehem...
Страница 226 - When, marshalled on the nightly plain, The glittering host bestud the sky, One Star alone, of all the train, Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, It is the star of Bethlehem.
Страница 193 - ... on thy weary head, Could from our best of duties ever shrink ? Sooner the sun from his high sphere should sink Than we, ungrateful, leave thee in that day, To pine in solitude thy life away, Or shun thee, tottering on the grave's cold brink. Banish the thought ! — where'er our steps may roam, O'er smiling plains, or wastes without a tree, Still will fond memory point our hearts to thee, And paint the pleasures of thy peaceful home ; While duty bids us all thy griefs assuage, And smooth the...
Страница 229 - WHITE !t while life was in its spring, And thy young Muse just waved her joyous wing. The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair, Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science...
Страница xlv - Henceforth, oh, world, no more of thy desires ! No more of hope ! the wanton vagrant Hope ! I abjure all. — Now other cares engross me, And my tired soul, with emulative haste, Looks to its God, and prunes its wings for Heaven.
Страница 230 - So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart ; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel He nursed the pinion which impell'd the steel ; While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Страница 104 - AH ! who can say, however fair his view, Through what sad scenes his path may lie ? Ah ! who can give to others' woes his sigh, Secure his own will never need it too ? Let thoughtless youth its seeming joys pursue, Soon will they learn to scan with thoughtful eye The illusive past and dark futurity ; Soon will they know — VIII.
Страница 28 - Surveys the sleepless muser, stamps the hour Of utter silence, it is fearful then To steer the mind, in deadly solitude. Up the vague stream of probability; To wind the mighty secrets of the past, And turn the key of time!
Страница 171 - Stern despoilers of the plains, Hence, away, the season flee, Foes to light-heart jollity: May no winds careering high Drive the clouds along the sky, But may all nature smile with aspect boon, When in the heavens thou...