Poems, Tom 2

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E. Littlefield, 1841
 

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Strona 30 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
Strona 30 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free ; They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
Strona 77 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Strona 183 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore 'Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Strona 125 - The night was winter in his roughest mood; The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon Upon the southern side of the slant hills, And where the woods fence off the northern blast, The season smiles, resigning all its rage, And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue Without a cloud, and white without a speck The dazzling splendour of the scene below.
Strona 129 - The Lord of all, himself through all diffused, Sustains, and is the life of all that lives. Nature is but a name for an effect, Whose cause is God.
Strona 12 - Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds, That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood Of ancient growth, make music not unlike The dash of ocean on his winding shore, And lull the spirit while they fill the mind; Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast, And all their leaves fast flutt'ring, all at once.
Strona 144 - One song employs all nations ; and all cry " Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us-! " The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; Till, nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round.
Strona 29 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.
Strona 125 - The redbreast warbles still, but is content With slender notes, and more than half suppress'd ; Pleas'd with his solitude, and flitting light From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes From many a twig the pendent drops of ice, That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, Charms more than silence.

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