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2,201 illustrations — Poetic illustrations and verse for preaching
Ourselves were wed one summer -- dear -- Your Vision -- was in June -- And when Your little Lifetime failed, I wearied -- too...
BUT lately seen in gladsome green, The woods rejoic’d the day, Thro’ gentle showers, the laughing flowers In double pride were gay: But now our joys are fled On winter blasts awa; Yet maiden May, in rich array, Again shall bring them a’.
Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows ' flaunt forth, then chevy on an air- built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs ' they throng; they glitter in marches. Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, ' wherever an elm arches, Shivelights and shadowtackle in long...
There came a Day at Summer's full, Entirely for me -- I thought that such were for the Saints, Where Resurrections -- be -- The...
THE CATRINE woods were yellow seen, The flowers decay’d on Catrine lee, Nae lav’rock sang on hillock green, But nature sicken’d on the e’e. Thro’ faded groves Maria sang, Hersel’ in beauty’s bloom the while; And aye the wild-wood ehoes...
MEN are Heaven's piers; they evermore Unwearying bear the skyey floor; Man's theatre they bear with ease, Unfrowning cariatides! I, for my wife, the sun...
Thou art fair, and few are fairer Of the Nymphs of earth or ocean; They are robes that fit the wearer-- Those soft limbs of thine, whose motion Ever falls and shifts and glances As the life within them dances.
A Drop Fell on the Apple Tree -- Another -- on the Roof -- A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves -- And made the...
BY yon Castle wa’, at the close of the day, I heard a man sing, tho’ his head it was grey: And as he was singing, the tears doon came,— There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
YE Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear, Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, Ye Jacobites by name, Your fautes I will proclaim, Your doctrines I maun blame, you shall hear. What is Right, and What is...
How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner, As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier, As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner, And drops, to Perfection's remembrance, a tear; When floods of despair...
Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend, And being frank she lends to those are free: Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse The bounteous largess given thee to give? Profitless usurer, why dost thou use So great a sum...
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
You know that Portrait in the Moon -- So tell me who 'tis like -- The very Brow -- the stooping eyes -- A fog...
SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough, Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain, See aged Winter, ’mid his surly reign, At thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow.
GANE is the day, and mirk’s the night, But we’ll ne’er stray for faut o’ light; Gude ale and bratdy’s stars and moon, And blue-red wine’s the risin’ sun. Chorus.—Then gudewife, count the lawin, The lawin, the lawin, Then gudewife,...
Sons of the Greeks, arise! The glorious hour's gone forth, And, worthy of such ties, Display who gave us birth. Sons of Greeks! let us go In arms against the foe, Till their hated blood shall flow In a river past our feet.
The Child's faith is new -- Whole -- like His Principle -- Wide -- like the Sunrise On fresh Eyes -- Never had a Doubt...
OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes. Say, love, do you hear...
My Faith is larger than the Hills -- So when the Hills decay -- My Faith must take the Purple Wheel To show the Sun...
sweet is the moonbeam that sleeps on yon fountain, And sweet the mild rush of the soft-sighing breeze, And sweet is the glimpse of yon dimly-seen mountain, 'Neath the verdant arcades of yon shadowy trees.
We sow the glebe, we reap the corn, We build the house where we may rest, And then, at moments, suddenly, We look up to the great wide sky, Inquiring wherefore we were born… For earnest or for jest?
GUDE pity me, because I’m little! For though I am an elf o’ mettle, An’ can, like ony wabster’s shuttle, Jink there or here, Yet, scarce as lang’s a gude kail-whittle, I’m unco queer.
It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad; The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway, The church-spires flamed, such flags they had, A year ago on this very day.
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