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2,201 illustrations — Poetic illustrations and verse for preaching
A Flower will not trouble her, it has so small a Foot, And yet if you compare the Lasts, Hers is the smallest Boot --
For largest Woman's Hearth I knew -- 'Tis little I can do -- And yet the largest Woman's Heart Could hold an Arrow -- too...
So gay a Flower Bereaves the Mind As if it were a Woe -- Is Beauty an Affliction -- then? Tradition ought to know --
The Bird her punctual music brings And lays it in its place -- Its place is in the Human Heart And in the Heavenly Grace...
'Twas such a little -- little boat That toddled down the bay! 'Twas such a gallant -- gallant sea That beckoned it away! 'Twas such a greedy, greedy wave That licked it from the Coast -- Nor ever guessed the...
My thoughts arise and fade in solitude, The verse that would invest them melts away Like moonlight in the heaven of spreading day: How beautiful they were, how firm they stood, Flecking the starry sky like woven pearl!
TO friends at home, the lone, the admired, the lost The gracious old, the lovely young, to May The fair, December the beloved, These from...
I send you a decrepit flower That nature sent to me At parting -- she was going south And I designed to stay -- Her...
Lest this be Heaven indeed An Obstacle is given That always gauges a Degree Between Ourself and Heaven.
Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord, Then, I am ready to go! Just a look at the Horses -- Rapid! That will do!...
what is the gain of restless care, And what is ambitious treasure? And what are the joys that the modish share, In their sickly haunts of pleasure?
They say that "Time assuages" -- Time never did assuage -- An actual suffering strengthens As Sinews do, with age -- Time is a Test...
THE DEVIL got notice that Grose was a-dying So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying; But when he approached where poor Francis lay moaning, And saw each bed-post with its burthen a-groaning, Astonish’d, confounded, cries Satan—“By G—, I’ll...
When Memory is full Put on the perfect Lid -- This Morning's finest syllable Presumptuous Evening said --
Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.
A little black thing in the snow, Crying "weep! weep!" in notes of woe! "Where are thy father and mother? Say!"-- "They are both gone up to the church to pray.
A chilly Peace infests the Grass The Sun respectful lies -- Not any Trance of industry These shadows scrutinize -- Whose Allies go no more...
HERE lie Willie Michie’s banes; O Satan, when ye tak him, Gie him the schulin o’ your weans, For clever deils he’ll mak them!
"I have no name; I am but two days old." What shall I call thee? "I happy am, Joy is my name." Sweet joy befall thee! Pretty joy! Sweet joy, but two days old. Sweet Joy I call thee: Thou...
The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes The red sun flashes On village windows That glimmer red.
My spirit like a charmed bark doth swim Upon the liquid waves of thy sweet singing, Far far away into the regions dim Of rapture--as a boat, with swift sails winging Its way adown some many-winding river, Speeds through dark forests o'er the waters swinging...
Inter marmoreas Leonorae pendula colles Fortunata nimis Machina dicit horas. Quas MANIBUS premit illa duas insensa papillas Cur mihi sit DIGITO tangere, amata, nefas?
He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears -- Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years -- All crumpled was...
Virtue runs before the muse And defies her skill, She is rapt, and doth refuse To wait a painter's will. Star-adoring, occupied, Virtue cannot bend her, Just to please a poet's pride, To parade her splendor.
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