Remains of William S. Graham: With a Memoir...

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Moore, 1849 - 278 pages

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Page 272 - There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
Page 271 - And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus...
Page 270 - While from the bounded level of our mind Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind ; But, more advanced, behold with strange surprise New distant scenes of endless science rise. So pleased at first the towering Alps we try, Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky ; The...
Page 271 - The variety of pauses, so much boasted by the lovers of blank verse, changes the measures of an English poet to the periods of a declaimer ; and there are only a few skilful and happy readers of Milton, who enable their audience to perceive where the lines end or begin. Blank verse, said an ingenious critic, seems to be verse only to the eye.
Page 271 - But most by numbers judge a poet's song, And smooth or rough with them is right or wrong . In the bright Muse though thousand charms conspire, Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire...
Page 78 - The sky is changed! - and such a change! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
Page 100 - Oh ! when a Mother meets on high The Babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then, for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over-payment of delight...
Page 31 - Heaven to bless him with her latest breath. Still was she studious never to offend ; And glad of an occasion to commend, With ease would pardon injuries received, Nor e'er was cheerful when another grieved : Despising state, with her own lot content.
Page 278 - Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit. And there are diversities of administrations, but the same Lord. And there are diversities of operations, but it is the same God which worketh all in all.
Page 270 - Like the gale, that sighs along Beds of oriental flowers, Is the grateful breath of song, That once was heard in happier hours ; Fill'd with balm, the gale sighs on, Though the flowers have sunk in death ; So, when pleasure's dream is gone, Its memory lives in Music's breath.

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