A Poem On The African Slave Trade. Addressed To Her Own Sex. Part II (Mary Birkett Card Poems)
ERST, when the Muse of Pity o'er me stole,And kindled new ideas in my soul;When Nature's rude effusions pour'd along,Impell'd ...
ERST, when the Muse of Pity o'er me stole,And kindled new ideas in my soul;When Nature's rude effusions pour'd along,Impell'd ...
Beneath the fervour of the noon-tide beamAll Nature's works in placid stillness pause,--Save man, and his joint labourer the horse,The ...
One summer morning, when the sun was hot,Weary with labor in his garden-plot,On a rude bench beneath his cottage eaves,Ser ...
No more at dewy dawn, or setting sun,The blackbird's song floats mellow down the dale;Mute is the lark, or soars ...
A FRAGMENT. Now the loud winds with angry pinions sweep The laboring bosom of the stormy deep, The face of day o'erspread by ...
The north-east spends his rage; he now shut upWithin his iron cave, th' effusive southWarms the wide air, and o'er ...
Th'imprison'd winds slumber within their cavesFast bound: the fickle vane, emblem of change,Wavers no more, long-settling to a point.All nature ...
ON HIS BRINGING ME SOME FLOWERS IN MARCH.SOOTH'D I receive the flowers you bring,Whose charm anticipates the Spring;Whose tints in ...
WHEN fallen man from Paradise was driven, Forth to a world of labour, death, and care; Still, of his native ...
COME , then, explore with me each winding glen,Far from the noisy haunts of busy men;Let us with stedfast eye ...
No charms she now can boast,--'tis true,But other charmers wither too:"And she is old,"--the fact I know,And old will other ...
SONG I.WILD wing my notes, fierce passions urge the strain; Strong flame the fires that kindle in my soul; I ...
Ever feel like a baby bird in a tree? Eyes newly opened he can barely see. With his mother away ...
BY QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS SUGGESTED BY THE COMPOSITION SO ENTITLED BY THE AUTHOR OF 'WAT TYLER' 'A Daniel come to judgment! ...
(to the rainbow) Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray Each ...
Close on the margin of a brawling brook That bathes the low dell's bosom, stands a Cot; O'ershadow'd by broad ...
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