What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
affection amidst appears bear beautiful become beneath better blessing blood bosom breath bright brow cause character Christian clouds consider dark dear death deep dream duty earth Emancipation evil exertions face fathers fearful feel felt female flowers gathered gaze gentle give grave hand happiness hath head heart heaven holy hope hour human influence interest Isabel knowledge labour lady land least leaves less lift light lips living look means meet memory mind moral mother nature never o'er once oppression ourselves pass prayer present principles rest round scene seems side silent slave slavery sleep smile sorrow soul speak spirit stood strange suffering surely sweet tears tell thee things thou thought true turn voice wild wish woman wrong young
Page 35 - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! * Each stamps its image as the other flies.
Page 68 - If thou art worn and hard beset With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget, If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep, Go to the woods and hills! — No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
Page 25 - A deathless thing ! They know not what they do, Nor what they deal with. Man perchance may bind The flower his step hath bruised ; or light anew' The torch he quenches ; or to music wind Again the lyre-string from his touch that flew; — But for the soul ! — oh ! tremble, and beware To lay rude hands upon God's mysteries there...
Page 22 - Lucy had (and it was a consolation) clung to the belief that, despite of appearances and his own confession, his past life had not been such as to place him without the pale...
Page 74 - All things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do ye unto them : and thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.
Page 13 - More mortal than the common births of Fate. Each moment has its sickle, emulous Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep Strikes empires from the root; each moment plays His little weapon in the narrower sphere Of sweet domestic comfort, and cuts down The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss.
Page 50 - She laid her hand upon her heart ; her eye flash'd proud and clear, And firmer grew her haughty tread — " My lord is hidden here ! " And if ye seek to view his form, ye first must tear away, From round his secret...
Page 55 - See the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again ; The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.