Crabbe

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Macmillan, 1903 - Poets, English - 210 pages

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Page 51 - Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side ; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt, for all.
Page 50 - Where the thin harvest waves its wither'd ears; Rank weeds, that every art and care defy, Reign o'er the land and rob the blighted rye : There thistles stretch their prickly arms afar, And to the ragged infant threaten war...
Page 51 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all ; And, as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Page 100 - Dark but not awful, dismal but yet mean, With anxious bustle moves the cumbrous scene; Presents no objects tender or profound, But spreads its cold unmeaning gloom around.
Page 52 - The holy stranger to these dismal walls ; And doth not he, the pious man, appear, He, "passing rich with forty pounds a year?
Page 172 - No other than the very heart of man, As found among the best of those who live, Not unexalted by religious faith, Nor uninformed by books, good books, though few, In Nature's presence : thence may I select Sorrow, that is not sorrow, but delight ; And miserable love, that is not pain To hear of, for the glory that redounds Therefrom to human kind, and what we are.
Page 111 - The ocean smiling to the fervid sun — The waves that faintly fall and slowly run — The ships at distance and the boats at hand ; And now they walk upon the sea-side sand, Counting the number, and what kind they be, Ships softly sinking in the sleepy sea : Now arm...
Page 82 - Again through sea and land we're gone, No peace, no respite, no repose: Above the dark broad sea we rose, We ran through bleak and frozen land; I had no strength their strength t' oppose, An infant in a giant's hand.
Page 98 - Next at our altar stood a luckless pair, Brought by strong passions and a warrant there ; By long rent cloak, hung loosely, strove the bride, From ev'ry eye, what all perceived to hide.
Page 137 - Cold grew the foggy morn, the day was brief, Loose on the cherry hung the crimson leaf; The dew dwelt ever on the herb ; the woods Roar'd...

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