The Works of Michael Bruce

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1865 - 274 páginas
 

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Términos y frases comunes

Pasajes populares

Página 6 - My boast is not, that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth; But higher far my proud pretensions rise — The son of parents passed into the skies!
Página 89 - Cuckoo ! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice ? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off, and near.
Página 90 - Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways, In bush, and tree, and sky.
Página 172 - And the Lord said unto Moses, 'Stretch out thine hand toward heaven, that there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, even darkness which may be felt.
Página 146 - Come, then ! O, come, from every land, To worship at His shrine ; And, walking in the Light of God, With holy beauties shine.
Página 48 - Thou shalt come to thy grave in a full age, Like as a shock of corn cometh in in his season.
Página 83 - Starts, the new voice of spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another spring to hail. Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year ! O, could I fly, I'd fly with thee ! We'd make, with joyful wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the spring.
Página 81 - Now, Spring returns ; but not to me returns The vernal joy my better years have known ; Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health are flown.
Página 133 - She guides the young, with innocence, In Pleasure's path to tread, A crown of glory she bestows Upon the hoary head. According as her labours rise, So her rewards increase, Her ways are ways of pleasantness, And all her paths are peace.
Página 83 - What time the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear; Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year? Delightful visitant ! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet, From birds among the bowers.

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