The Excelsior poetry book for the young, selected and ed. by Vita |
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Page 2
... rest Each in its proper dwelling - place , Settled within his breast . A form erect , a stately brow , A set and measured mien ; The satisfied , unroving look Of one who much hath seen . And once , when young , in care of souls , I ...
... rest Each in its proper dwelling - place , Settled within his breast . A form erect , a stately brow , A set and measured mien ; The satisfied , unroving look Of one who much hath seen . And once , when young , in care of souls , I ...
Page 17
... thy mother's breast , No longer lean adown , But take the glory for the rest , And rule the land that loves thee best . The maiden wept : She wept to wear a crown . 17 They decked her courtly halls , They reined her hundred 2.
... thy mother's breast , No longer lean adown , But take the glory for the rest , And rule the land that loves thee best . The maiden wept : She wept to wear a crown . 17 They decked her courtly halls , They reined her hundred 2.
Page 21
... rest For every dark and troubled night ; And grief may bide an evening guest , But joy shall come with early light . And thou who , o'er thy friend's low bier , Sheddeth the bitter drops like rain , Hope that a brighter , happier sphere ...
... rest For every dark and troubled night ; And grief may bide an evening guest , But joy shall come with early light . And thou who , o'er thy friend's low bier , Sheddeth the bitter drops like rain , Hope that a brighter , happier sphere ...
Page 23
... rest , thou art weary and worn . " And fain was their war - broken soldier to stay ; But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn , And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away . --Campbel !. 23 MEN OF ENGLAND . MEN of England ! who ...
... rest , thou art weary and worn . " And fain was their war - broken soldier to stay ; But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn , And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away . --Campbel !. 23 MEN OF ENGLAND . MEN of England ! who ...
Page 40
... rest not day or night , And the feeble little ones must stand In the thickest of the fight . " " What is Death , father ? " " The rest , my child , When the strife and the toil are o'er ; The Angel of God , who calm and mild , Says we ...
... rest not day or night , And the feeble little ones must stand In the thickest of the fight . " " What is Death , father ? " " The rest , my child , When the strife and the toil are o'er ; The Angel of God , who calm and mild , Says we ...
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The Excelsior Poetry Book for the Young, Selected and Ed. by Vita Excelsior Poetry Book No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
angels beauty bell beneath Bernard Barton bird bless blest brave breast breath bright Bring flowers brooklets brow calm cheer child chimes clouds crown dark death deep demon band dost doth dreams earth Ebenezer Elliot Eliza Cook England fair Farewell father forest Gelert Gerald Massey glorious glory glow God's golden grace grave green hallowed happy hast hath hear heart heaven helmet of Navarre Horned Owl hour Inchcape Inchcape Rock ivy green king land lark life's light lonely look Lord MIRIAM'S SONG morning mother mountain native never night o'er ocean old arm-chair orphan boy peace pride rest rose Rule Britannia Sabbath shine shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smiled soft song sorrow soul sound spirit STAFFA stars sunset tree sweet tears thee There's thine Thomas Pringle thou art voice wandering waves weary weep wild wind wings
Popular passages
Page 115 - 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.
Page 122 - gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow; And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Page 47 - With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Page 15 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day ; But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! T remember.
Page 208 - And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Page 49 - THE SEA. The Sea ! the Sea ! the open Sea ! The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round ; It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; Or like a cradled creature lies.
Page 84 - O ! th' exceeding grace Of highest God that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed Angels He sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe.
Page 185 - Far beyond the stars, Where stands a winged sentry All skilful in the wars; There above noise, and danger Sweet peace sits crowned with smiles, And one born in a manger Commands the beauteous files; He is thy gracious friend, And (O, my Soul, awake!) Did in pure love descend To die here for thy sake. If thou canst get but thither, There grows the flower of peace, The rose that cannot wither, Thy fortress, and thy ease; Leave then thy foolish ranges, For none can thee secure, But one, who never changes,...
Page 208 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
Page 16 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing ; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high ; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky : It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from Heaven Than when I was a boy.