The Youth and Manhood of Cyril Thornton, Volumen1

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Página 31 - There was a time when meadow, grove and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Página 306 - Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need — The thorns which I have reaped are of the tree I planted, — they have torn me, — and I bleed : I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
Página 281 - They have been with me through the dreamy night — The blessed household voices, wont to fill My heart's clear depths with unalloy'd delight ! I hear them still, unchanged : — though some from earth Are music parted, and the tones of mirth — Wild, silvery tones, that rang through days more bright ! Have died in others, — yet to me they come, Singing of boyhood back — the voices of my home ! II.
Página 32 - Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath...
Página 323 - The village maid steals through the shade, Her shepherd's suit to hear ; To beauty shy, by lattice high, Sings high-born Cavalier. The star of Love, all stars above, Now reigns o'er...
Página 288 - twill smile again, And still the thought I will not brook That I must look in vain. But, when I speak, thou dost not say What thou ne'er leftst unsaid, And now I feel, as well I may, Sweet Mary!
Página 11 - O'er each fair sleeping brow, She had each folded flower in sight— Where are those dreamers now? One midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream, is laid ; The Indian knows his place of rest Far in the cedar shade. The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one, He lies where pearls lie deep, He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep. One sleeps where southern vines...
Página 157 - For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard. Thus fares it still in our decay : And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what age takes away Than what it leaves behind.
Página 157 - No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears ; How merrily it goes ! 'Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows.
Página 11 - O'er each fair sleeping brow ; She had each folded flower in sight ; Where are those dreamers now f One, midst the forests of the west, By a dark stream is laid ; The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade.

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