Time How Short (John Newton Poems)
Time, with an unwearied hand,Pushes round the seasons past,And in life's frail glass, the sandSinks apace, not long to last:Many, ...
Time, with an unwearied hand,Pushes round the seasons past,And in life's frail glass, the sandSinks apace, not long to last:Many, ...
Patiently, as one grinds gravelPatiently, as one awaits death,Patiently, as news ripens,Patiently, as one savors revenge -I will wait for ...
There is a place of grassWith daisies like white pools,Or shining islands in a seaOf brightening waves.Swallows, darting, brushThe waves ...
PRELUDING low, in notes that faint and tremble,Swelling, awakening, dying, plaining deep,While such sensations in the soul assemble,As make it ...
Still sing the Morning Stars remoteWith echoes now unheard,Save in the scintillating noteOf some dawn-wakened birdWhose heart—a fountain in the ...
Accursed the man, whom Fate ordains, in spite,And cruel parents teach, to read and write!What need of letters? wherefore should ...
The Troubadour o'er many a plainHath roamed unwearied, but in vain.O'er many a rugged mountain-scene And forest wild his track ...
Of course, the familiar rustling of programs, My hair mussed from behind by a grand gesture Of mink. A little ...
I.There breathes not a breath of the summer airBut the spirit of love is moving there;Not a trembling leaf on ...
Devyde my tymes and rate my wretched howresFrom days to months, fro months to many yeers,And than compare my sweetest ...
Ever since ending of the summer weather.When last the thunder and the lightning broke,Shatt'ring themselves upon it at one stroke,The ...
Burn on, sweet fire, for I live by that fuelWhose smoke is as an incense to my soul.Each sigh prolongs ...
Now the golden Morn aloft Waves her dew-bespangled wing, With vermeil cheek and whisper soft She wooes the tardy Spring: ...
Whom should I choose for my Judge? the earnest, impersonal reader, Who, in the work, forgets me and the world ...
The river stretched. It flows, idly grieves, And washes both banks. In steppe, above light clay of cliffs Rinks mourn ...
Upbroke the sun In red-gold foam; Thus spoke the gun At the Soldier's Home: "Whenever I hear Blue thunder speak ...
An evening hymn. Psa. 4:8; 3:5,6; 148:8. Thus far the Lord has led me on, Thus far his power prolongs ...
Intemperance punished and pardoned. Vain man, on foolish pleasures bent, Prepares for his own punishment; What pains, what loathsome maladies, ...
Deep in th' abyss where frantic horror bides, In thickest mists of vapours fell, Where wily Serpents hissing glare And ...
I It was the Winter wilde, While the Heav'n-born-childe, All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; Nature in aw ...
IT was the Winter wilde, While the Heav'n-born-childe, All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; Nature in aw to ...
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