Lays of lowly life, Volume 1

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Page 33 - I've listened its babble, While the hours passed away like a dream. Oh for the incense-fraught zephyr, Oh for the clondless blue skies, Oh for the young birds' sweet warbling, And the wild deers' beautiful eyes ; I want to be carelessly straying Through meadows, and woodlands, and bowers, I want to be hearing sweet music, I want to make garlands of flowers. Oh for the pale dewy primrose, Oh for the lilac's sweet dyes, For the cowslip that bends its head meekly, To look in the violet's blue eyes ;...
Page 67 - WHERE SHOULD I BEST LOVE TO BE? WHERE should I much love to be ? Straying alone in the wild wood green, — Sunning myself in the noontide sheen, — Swinging aloft in some stout old tree, Where the wild birds are singing, And the wild blossoms springing, And the fountains are leaping so merrily. Where should I much love to be ? Far, far away on some Alpine height, With the clouds aneath me, gloomily bright, And the torrent sweeping in majesty : — . Where the glacier peaks are gleaming, And the...
Page 68 - ... some eastern land of gorgeous light, — In a myrtle bower, on a soft still night, With the purple sky for my canopy ; — When the beaming fire-flies glisten, And the rapt stars seem to listen To the gentle winds, sighing in the tall plaintain tree.
Page 21 - Like glory in the forest aisles when fades the summer day. And yet it hath a beauty, an enchantment all its own ; There is quiet at its fireside, to some grander homes unknown ; There's the glow of English comfort in its pleasant hearth-light's shine, And the joy of English freedom in this humble home of mine. Nor lacks it all refining grace while books diffuse a charm Which gilds its simple homeliness like sunshine rich and warm.
Page 41 - Keeping vigils all the while, Where the yellow wild-bee gleameth From out some honied flower, Where the starry glowworm dreameth In her resplendent bower, Where the grasshopper is making Music all the summer bright, Where the butterfly is taking A glorious sunny flight, Where echo seldom waketh To the tread of human feet, Where the chiming brooklet maketh The lonesome places sweet, Where the...
Page 32 - To be anear the scene and mark the grandeur of the deep ! Ocean, I dwell afar from thee upon an inland spot, And to behold thee calm or wild may never be my lot, But thou shalt dwell within my heart a thing of which to dream When lulled into drowsiness beside some tinkling stream ; Or when enrapt I fix my gaze upon the starry sky, I will fancy it that part of thee where the blessed islets lie.
Page 14 - On that blest morn, that his celestial seat Beyond the eternal hills he might resume ; She tells how they who trust in Him shall bloom For aye in glory. Deeply in my heart Her words have sunken, and the dreary gloom That brooded o'er my spirit doth depart, As through my soul the rays of truth divinely dart.
Page 42 - And I heard the wild bee a sweet tale tell, As it lay hid in the foxglove's bell, And the blackbird thrilled the woods at noon, And Philomel sang to the silver moon — There was rich music then. Then Autumn came with a mournful smile, And the flowers looked fair but they withered the while...
Page 13 - Memory, I can feel the past As if it were the present. Sun-bright days Are passing o'er me ; hours too bright to last ; Unclouded skies lit up with golden rays Of summer's suns. I see an eye that says All loving things. It is my Father's eye Beaming with goodness.

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