The Poetical Works of Henry Kirke White

Little, Brown, 1854 - 252 sider

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Side 215 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, —...
Side 230 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low : So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that...
Side 229 - Unhappy White ! while life was in its spring,* And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing, The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science...
Side 226 - Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, It is the Star of Bethlehem.
Side 173 - And sailing on the gusty breeze, Mysterious music dies. Sweet flower ! that requiem wild is mine, It warns me to the lonely shrine, The cold turf altar of the dead ; My grave shall be in yon lone spot, Where as I lie, by all forgot, A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my ashes shed.
Side 143 - Winter's sway, And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, Thee on this bank he threw To mark his victory. In this low vale, the promise of the year, Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale, Unnoticed and alone, Thy tender elegance So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the...
Side 177 - What is this passing scene? A peevish April day ! A little sun — a little rain, And then night sweeps along the plain, And all things fade away Man (soon discuss'd) Yields up his trust, And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust.
Side 2 - The pale mechanic leaves the labouring loom, The air-pent hold, the pestilential room, And rushes out, impatient to begin The stated course of customary sin ; Now, now my solitary way I bend Where solemn groves in awful state impend : And cliffs, that boldly rise above the plain, Bespeak, blest Clifton ! thy sublime domain.
Side 177 - O'er Beauty's fall ; Her praise resounds no more when mantled in her pall. The most beloved on earth Not long survives to-day ; So music past is obsolete, And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, But now 'tis gone away. Thus does the shade In memory fade, When in forsaken tomb the form beloved is laid.
Side 25 - And smile, and say, my name shall live with this Till Time shall be no more ; while at his feet, Yea, at his very feet, the crumbling dust Of the fallen fabric of the other day Preaches the solemn lesson. — He should know That time must conquer ; that the loudest blast That ever fill'd Renown's obstreperous trump Fades in the lapse of ages, and expires. Who lies inhumed in the terrific gloom Of the gigantic pyramid ? or who Rear'd its huge walls ? Oblivion laughs, and says, The prey is mine.

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