The Campaign, A Poem, To His Grace The Duke Of Marlborough (Joseph Addison Poems)
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,Proud in their number to enrol your name;While emperors to you commit their cause,And ...
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,Proud in their number to enrol your name;While emperors to you commit their cause,And ...
FROM Adam's lapse, this useful lesson learn,"As the least sin, there's nothing costs so much"Thence, too, the danger thou may'st ...
I.1EVEN as water to him who thirsts wayfaring, dust-dry and burning,After sore heat and long stumbling in courses with never ...
One Sabbath day my friend and IAfter the meeting, quietlyPassed from the crowded village lanes,White with dry dust for lack ...
Let gaudy Mirth, to the blithe Carrol-song,In loose light-measur'd Numbers dance along;Thou, Muse no flow'ry Fancies here display,Nor warble with ...
Oh, what a blessed interval A rainy day may be! No lightning flash nor tempest roar, But one incessant, steady pour Of dripping melody; When ...
I sat beside the glowing grate, fresh heapedWith Newport coal, and as the flame grew bright--The many-coloured flame--and played and ...
ON A SUN-PORTRAIT OF HER HUSBAND, SENT BY HISWIFE TO THEIR FRIEND.Beautiful eyes,—and shall I see no moreThe living thought ...
Glimmers gray the leafless thicketClose beside my garden gate,Where, so light, from post to picketHops the sparrow, blithe, sedate;Who, with ...
What is this urge, this hastening,This lashing something which besets all creation?I watch the moving clouds making their wayIn haste ...
Deliver us from evil, Heavenly Father! It still besets us wheresoe'er we go!Bid the bright rays of revelation gather To light the ...
Days, when the ball of our visionHad eagles that flew unabashed to sun;When the grasp on the bow was decision,And ...
What would'st thou have for easement after grief, When the rude world hath used thee with despite, And care sits at thine elbow day and night, Filching thy pleasures like a subtle thief? To me, when life besets me in such wise, 'Tis sweetest to break forth, to drop the chain, And grasp the freedom of this pleasant earth, To roam in idleness and sober mirth, Through summer airs and summer lands, and drain The comfort of wide fields unto tired eyes. By hills and waters, farms and solitudes, To wander by the day with wilful feet; Through fielded valleys wide with yellowing wheat; Along gray roads that run between deep woods, Murmurous and cool; through hallowed slopes of pine, Where the long daylight dreams, unpierced, unstirred, And only the rich-throated thrush is heard; By lonely forest brooks that froth and shine In bouldered crannies buried in the hills; By broken beeches tangled with wild vine, And long-strewn rivers murmurous with mills. In upland pastures, sown with gold, and sweet With the keen perfume of the ripening grass, Where wings of birds and filmy shadows pass, Spread thick as stars with shining marguerite: To haunt old fences overgrown with brier, Muffled in vines, and hawthorns, and wild cherries, Rank poisonous ivies, red-bunched elder-berries, And pièd blossoms to the heart's desire, Gray mullein towering into yellow bloom, Pink-tasseled milkweed, breathing dense perfume, And swarthy vervain, tipped with violet fire. To hear at eve the bleating of far flocks, The mud-hen's whistle from the marsh at morn; To skirt with deafened ears and brain o'erborne Some foam-filled rapid charging down its rocks With iron roar of waters; far away Across wide-reeded meres, pensive with noon, To hear the querulous outcry of the loon; To lie among deep rocks, and watch all day On liquid heights the snowy clouds melt by; Or hear from wood-capped mountain-brows the jay Pierce the bright morning with his jibing cry. To feast on summer sounds; the jolted wains, The thresher humming from the farm near by, The prattling cricket's intermittent cry, The locust's rattle from the sultry lanes; Or in the shadow of some oaken spray, To watch, as through a mist of light and dreams, The far-off hayfields, where the dusty teams Drive round and round the lessening squares of hay, And hear upon the wind, now loud, now low, With drowsy cadence half a summer's day, The clatter of the reapers come and go. Far violet hills, horizons filmed with showers, The murmur of cool streams, the forest's gloom, The voices of the breathing grass, the hum Of ancient gardens overbanked with flowers: Thus, with a smile as golden as the dawn, And cool fair fingers radiantly divine, The mighty mother brings us in her hand, For all tired eyes and foreheads pinched and wan, Her restful cup, her beaker of bright wine: Drink, and be filled, and ye shall understand!(Archibald Lampman)
God of our Father, who by land and sea has everLed us on to victory, please continue your inspiringGuidance in ...
I've sipped a rich man's sparkling wine, His silverware I've handled. I've placed these battered legs of mine 'Neath tables ...
NOt that thy Fair Hand Should lead me from my deep Dispaire, Or thy Love, Cloris, End my Care, And ...
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! O first-born on the mountains! by the hues Of heaven on the spiritual ...
'Twas in the prime of summer-time An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school: ...
Why should we hurry -- why indeed? When every way we fly We are molested equally By immortality. No respite ...
v.20-26 L. M. Sincerity proved and rewarded. Lord, thou hast seen my soul sincere, Hast made thy truth and love ...
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