The lonely hearth, the Songs of Israel, Harp of Zion, and other poems

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J. Johnstone, 1847 - 216 páginas
 

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Página 95 - Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud? — Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, He passeth from life to his rest in the grave. "The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, Be scattered around, and together be laid ; And the young and the old, and the low and the high. Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie.
Página 95 - The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap, The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep, The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread, Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
Página 48 - Here pause — and, thro' the starting tear, Survey this grave. The poor Inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame, But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name ! Reader, attend — whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, In low pursuit ; Know, prudent, cautious self-control Is wisdom's root.
Página 95 - The infant a mother attended and loved ; The mother that infant's affection who proved ; The husband that mother and infant who blessed, Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest. The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye Shone beauty and pleasure — her triumphs are by ; And the memory of those who loved her, and praised, Are alike from the minds of the living erased.
Página 1 - The moving accident is not my trade ; To freeze the blood I have no ready arts : 'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
Página 96 - They loved, but the story we cannot unfold; They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold ; They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come; They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
Página 96 - The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think; From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink; To the life we are clinging they also would cling; But it speeds for us all, like a bird on the wing.
Página 97 - tis the draught of a breath, From the blossom of health to the paleness of death ; From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud : — Oh ! why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? Oh ! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Página 96 - The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven, The sinner that dared to remain unforgiven ; The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust. So the multitude goes, like the flower and the weed, That wither away to let others succeed ; So the multitude comes, even those we behold, To repeat every tale that has often been told.
Página 85 - Drop like the life-blood from our hearts ; The rose-bloom from the cheek departs, The tresses from the temples fall, The eye grows dim and strange to all. Time speeds away — away — away : Like torrent in a stormy day, He undermines the stately tower, Uproots the tree, and snaps the flower...

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