The Mourner's Chaplet: An Offering of Sympathy for Bereaved Friends. Selected from American Poets

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Gould, Kendall & Lincoln, 1844 - 120页
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第25页 - And with them the Being Beauteous Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies.
第61页 - He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. My Lord has need of these flowerets gay, The Reaper said, and smiled : Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child.
第24页 - When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight...
第61页 - Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child. 'They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care, And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear.
第50页 - MOTHER, how still the baby lies ! I cannot hear his breath ; I cannot see his laughing eyes — They tell me this is death. My little work I thought to bring, And sat down by his bed, And pleasantly I tried to sing — They hushed me — he is dead. They say that he again will rise, More beautiful than now ; That God will bless him in the skies — 0, mother, tell me how...
第51页 - O, yes, mamma ! how very gay Its wings of starry gold ! And see ! it lightly flies away Beyond my gentle hold. O, mother, now I know full well, If God that worm can change, And draw it from this broken cell, On golden wings to range, — How beautiful will brother be, When God shall give him wings, Above this dying world to flee, And live with heavenly things !
第20页 - I cannot make him dead ! His fair sunshiny head Is ever bounding round my study chair ; Yet when my eyes, now dim With tears, I turn to him, The vision vanishes — he is not there...
第60页 - I have nought that is fair?" saith he ; " Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again.
第83页 - Should the .visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret " Look aloft " to the sun that is never to set. Should they who are dearest, the son of thy heart, The wife of thy bosom, in sorrow depart, "Look aloft" from the darkness and dust of the tomb, To that soil where
第20页 - Closed are his eyes; cold is his forehead fair; My hand that marble felt; O'er it in prayer I knelt; Yet my heart whispers that — he is not there ! I cannot make him dead!

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