The Album, Bind 3

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J. Andrews., 1823

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Side 410 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Side 410 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May- time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Side 298 - Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light: But, oh ! she dances such a way— No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.
Side 22 - Put out the light, and then put out the light. If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me; but once put out thy light, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume.
Side 389 - English poets are the writers, a study of whom might incite us to do that for our own age which they have done for theirs. But it must be the real language of men in general, and not that of any particular class to whose society the writer happens to belong.
Side 426 - Nor would redeem a moment of that hour; I do not combat against death, but thee And thy surrounding angels; my past power, Was purchased by no compact with thy crew, But by superior science — penance, daring, And length of watching, strength of mind, and skill In knowledge of our fathers— when the earth Saw men and spirits walking side by side, And gave ye no supremacy: I stand Upon my strength — I do defy — deny — Spurn back, and scorn ye!
Side 97 - Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath. Oh, could I feel as I have felt, — or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanish'd scene ; As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be, So, midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow to me.
Side 152 - And hitting and splitting, And shining and twining, And rattling and battling, And shaking and quaking, And pouring and roaring, And waving and raving, And tossing and crossing, And flowing and going, And running and stunning, And foaming and roaming, And dinning and spinning.
Side 96 - Her brow was white and low, her cheek's pure dye Like twilight rosy still with the set sun ; Short upper lip — sweet lips ! that make us sigh Ever to have seen such ; for she was one Fit for the model of a statuary, (A race of mere impostors, when all's done — I've seen much finer women, ripe and real, Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal.
Side 169 - Otsego, or pausing to listen to the rattling of wheels and the sounds of hammers, that rose from the valley to mingle the signs of men with the scenes of nature, when Elizabeth suddenly started, and exclaimed : — "Listen! there are the cries of a child on this mountain! Is there a clearing near us, or can some little one have strayed from its parents ? " "Such things frequently happen,

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