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2,201 illustrations — Poetic illustrations and verse for preaching
WHO killed John Keats? "I," says the Quarterly, So savage and Tartarly; "'T was one of my feats." Who shot the arrow? "The poet-priest Milman (So ready to kill man) "Or Southey, or Barrow."
And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning rose Early and sere, its end Never Bud from a...
gentle, fleeting, wav'ring Sprite, Friend and associate of this clay! To what unknown region borne, Wilt thou, now, wing thy distant flight? No more with wonted humour gay, But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.
Within a cavern of man's trackless spirit Is throned an Image, so intensely fair That the adventurous thoughts that wander near it Worship, and as they kneel, tremble and wear The splendour of its presence, and the light Penetrates their...
A hater he came and sat by a ditch, And he took an old cracked lute; And he sang a song which was more of a screech 'Gainst a woman that was a brute.
"Love seeketh not itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives it ease, And builds a heaven in hell's despair." So sang a little clod of clay, Trodden with the cattle's feet, But a pebble...
Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come...
Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done -- Seems Summer's Recollection And the Affairs of June As infinite Tradition As Cinderella's Bays --...
AH, woe is me, my mother dear! A man of strife ye’ve born me: For sair contention I maun bear; They hate, revile, and scorn me. I ne’er could lend on bill or band, That five per cent.
A flower was offered to me, Such a flower as May never bore; But I said "I've a pretty rose tree," And I passed the sweet flower o'er.
How sweet it is to sit and read the tales Of mighty poets and to hear the while Sweet music, which when the attention fails Fills the dim pause--
HIS father's sense, his mother's grace, In him, I hope, will always fit so; With--still to keep him in good case-- The health and appetite of Rizzo.
Hills of Annesley, Bleak and Barren, Where my thoughtless Childhood stray'd, How the northern Tempests, warring, Howl above thy tufted Shade! Now no more, the Hours beguiling, Former favourite Haunts I see; Now no more my Mary smiling, Makes ye seem a Heaven to Me.
The rose that drinks the fountain dew In the pleasant air of noon, Grows pale and blue with altered hue-- In the gaze of the nightly moon; For the planet of frost, so cold and bright, Makes it wan with her borrowed light.
The Apple on the Tree -- Provided it do hopeless -- hang -- That -- "Heaven" is -- to Me! The Color, on the Cruising Cloud -- The interdicted Land -- Behind the Hill -- the House behind -- There -- Paradise -- is found!
Like Men and Women Shadows walk Upon the Hills Today -- With here and there a mighty Bow Or trailing Courtesy To Neighbors doubtless of...
We should not mind so small a flower -- Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again. So...
For me, my friend, if not that tears did tremble In my faint eyes, and that my heart beat fast With feelings which make rapture pain resemble, Yet, from thy voice that falsehood starts aghast, I thank thee--let the tyrant...
The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one spirit meet and mingle.
Between the form of Life and Life The difference is as big As Liquor at the Lip between And Liquor in the Jug The latter...
Far from Love the Heavenly Father Leads the Chosen Child, Oftener through Realm of Briar Than the Meadow mild. Oftener by the Claw of Dragon...
ISAACUS NEWTONUS: QUEM IMMORTALEM TESTANTUR TEMPUS, NATURA, COELUM: MORTALEM HOC MARMOR FATETUR. Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night God said, Let Newton be! and all was light.
All the breath and the bloom of the year in the bag of one bee: All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the heart of one gem: In the core of one pearl all the shade and the...
THIS day, of all our days, has done The worst for me and you:-- 'T is just _six_ years since we were _one_, And _five_ since we were _two_.
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