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W. Kent, 1859 - 188 pages

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Page i - Read from some humbler poet. Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start...
Page i - Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer.
Page 162 - Look aloft!" and be firm, and be fearless of heart. If the friend who embraced In prosperity's glow, With a smile for each joy, and a tear for each woe, Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are arrayed, "Look aloft!
Page 97 - He wooes the bright sun o'er the lea With a flourish of his horn. So the thrush, the thrush, the old gray thrush, A merry, blithe old boy is he ; You may hear him on the roadside bush, Or the topmost twig of the mountain tree. To come with the balmy breath of Spring, And...
Page v - Mr. Capern's features have a striking resemblance to those of Oliver Goldsmith ; he has also the Doctor's sturdy build, though not his personal height. Nor is this the only point of resemblance to our dear Goldy. Mr. Capern has an ear for music, he plays touchingly on the flute, and sings his own songs to his own tunes with striking energy or tenderness.
Page 58 - mid Heaven's music revelling ? For the tones of thy song from the greenwood bush, The lark in the sky, and the mountain thrush, Speak as if it were given to thee To list to seraphic minstrelsy. Ay, there thou hast been. Not sunny France, Or old Italia's land of song, Can furnish such notes for the Poet's dance, As the melody poured from thy musical tongue. Where hast thou been, my beautiful Spring ? Plucking rich plumes from the paroquet's wing, Robbing the clouds of their rainbow crest, Bathing...
Page 162 - O, the postman's is as blessed a life As any one's, I trow, If leaping the stile, o'er many a mile, Can blessedness bestow. If tearing your way through a tangled wood, Or dragging your limbs through a lawn...
Page 159 - He certainly enjoyed his life as a postman. He says: O, the postman's life is as happy a life As any one's, I trow ; Wand'ring away where dragon-flies play, And brooks sing- soft and low ; And watching the lark as he soars on high, To carol in yonder cloud, "He sings in his labours, and why not I ?
Page 90 - Dear to thy nestlings and precious to me. Bright in eccentric flight, Gleaming with purest white, Floating through ether, all buoyant and free ; Raptured, I've seen thee swerve From thy fantastic curve, Dropping with call-note to sport on the lea. Oft when the billows foam, Far from...
Page 31 - E'en thy foes will call it kindly. "Words are wind : oh, let them never Friendship's golden love-cords sever ! Nor be angry, though another Scorn to call thee' friend or brother. " Brother," say, "let's be forgiving, Live in love; 'tis pleasant living.

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