Belle Brittan on a Tour: At Newport, and Here and There

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Derby & Jackson, 1858 - 359ÆäÀÌÁö

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356 ÆäÀÌÁö - Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
208 ÆäÀÌÁö - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook, In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
42 ÆäÀÌÁö - Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep ; If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take ; And this I ask for Jesus
49 ÆäÀÌÁö - I fill this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex The seeming paragon ; To whom the better elements And kindly stars have given A form so fair, that, like the air, Tis less of earth than heaven.
356 ÆäÀÌÁö - I never was on the dull tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more, And backward flew to her billowy breast, Like a bird...
211 ÆäÀÌÁö - I have asked that dreadful question of the hills That look eternal ; of the flowing streams That lucid flow for ever ; of the stars, Amid whose fields of azure my raised spirit Hath trod in glory : all were dumb ; but now, While I thus gaze upon thy living face, I feel the love that kindles through its beauty, Can never wholly perish ; — we shall meet Again, Clemanthe ! Clem.
203 ÆäÀÌÁö - I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry : be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
66 ÆäÀÌÁö - But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, The beast is laid down in his lair, Even here is a season of rest, And I to my cabin repair. There's mercy in every place, And mercy, encouraging thought ! Gives even affliction a grace, And reconciles man to his lot.
i ÆäÀÌÁö - Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly long'd for death. " Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not death, for which we pant ; More life, and fuller, that I want.
234 ÆäÀÌÁö - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

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