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Page 86 - It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word ; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure, Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
Page 60 - The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot Sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead. That is the grasshopper's : he takes the lead In summer luxury — he has never done With his delights, for when tired out with fun, He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
Page 101 - After some common discourses had passed between us he called for a manuscript of his ; which being brought he delivered to me, bidding me take it home with me and read it at my leisure ; and when I had so done, return it to him with my judgment thereupon. '' When I came home and had set myself to read it I found it was that excellent poem which he entitled
Page 87 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains ; Heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be — Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the Day joins the past Eternity ; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest 1
Page 5 - The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted.
Page 10 - DEAR is the hallowed morn to me, When village bells awake the day ; And, by their sacred minstrelsy, Call me from earthly cares away. And dear to me the winged hour, Spent in Thy hallowed courts, O Lord ! To feel devotion's soothing power, And catch the manna of Thy word. And dear to me the loud Amen...
Page 91 - Yea, the stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed times ; and the turtle, and the crane, and the swallow, observe the time of their coming; but my people know not the judgment of the LORD.
Page 4 - If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Page 47 - First the flaming red Sprung vivid forth ; the tawny orange next ; And next delicious yellow ; by whose side Fell the kind beams of all-refreshing green. Then the pure blue, that swells autumnal skies, Ethereal...