A Garland of Poetry

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A. Holroyd, 1873 - 198 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 11 - Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness; The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds, and other seas; Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade.
Pàgina 24 - No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere : I see Heaven's glories shine, And faith shines equal, arming me from fear. O God within my breast, Almighty, ever-present Deity ! Life — that in me has rest, As I — undying Life — have power in thee...
Pàgina 115 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Pàgina 10 - While all the flowers and trees do close To weave the garlands of repose! Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear? Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men: Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow; Society is all but rude To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen So amorous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress
Pàgina 21 - He makes the figs our mouths to meet And throws the melons at our feet; But apples plants of such a price, No tree could ever bear them twice. With cedars chosen by His hand From Lebanon He stores the land; And makes the hollow seas that roar Proclaim the ambergris on shore.
Pàgina 182 - From India's coral strand, Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand ; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain. 2 What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile : In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of GOD are strewn ; The heathen in his blindness Bows down to wood and stone.
Pàgina 182 - Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining, Low lies his head with the beasts of the stall; Angels adore him in slumber reclining, Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all.
Pàgina 182 - Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid; Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
Pàgina 21 - What should we do but sing His praise That led us through the watery maze Unto an isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own? Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks That lift the deep upon their backs, He lands us on a grassy stage, Safe from the storms' and prelates
Pàgina 182 - Waft, waft, ye winds, His story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole ; Till o'er our ransomed nature, The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign ! 727 Psalm 60.

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