Summer: Sunday Morning (John Bowring Poems)
Thou art my glory—Thou my song, whose throneIs built upon the highest heavens—and thenceRollest the spheres by Thine omnipotence—Thou art ...
Thou art my glory—Thou my song, whose throneIs built upon the highest heavens—and thenceRollest the spheres by Thine omnipotence—Thou art ...
Sit down and take thy fill of joy At God's right hand, a bidden guest,Drink of the cup that cannot cloy, Eat ...
The thief, when he doth steal, thinks he doth gain;Yet then the greatest loss he doth sustain.Come, thief, tell me ...
The night is come, but not too soon; And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. There is no ...
THIS my comfort is in sorrow:Every grief I have is Thine:Heaviest clouds around me borrowRadiance from Thy smile divine.Lamb of ...
Thou, run to the dry on this wayside bank,Too plainly of all the propellers bereft!Quenched youth, and is that thy ...
BOOK IV.So did that youth choose Duty before Love:And so determination drove awayThe doubts that held him with ungainly checkWavering—for ...
I.SHE came to England from the island clime Which lies beyond the far Atlantic wave; She died in early youth--before ...
When I the memory repeatOf the heroic actions great,Which, in contempt of pain and death,Were done by men who drew ...
Since thou readest in her what thou thyself hast there written, And, to gladden the eye, placest her wonders ...
The night is come, but not too soon; And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the ...
Since thou readest in her what thou thyself hast there written, And, to gladden the eye, placest her wonders in ...
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