The Borough: A Poem in Twenty-four Letters

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Bradford and Inskeep, 1810 - 330 pages
 

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Page 26 - twas her proper care. Here will she come, and on the grave will sit, Folding her arms, in long abstracted fit ; But, if observer pass, will take her round, And careless seem, for she would not be found ; Then go again, and thus her hour employ, While visions please her, and while woes destroy.
Page 10 - Upon the billows rising all the deep Is restless change ; the waves so swell'd and steep, Breaking and sinking, and the sunken swells, Nor one, one moment, in its station dwells : But nearer land you may the billows trace, As if contending in their watery chase ; May watch the mightiest till the shoal they reach, Then break and hurry to' their utmost stretch ; Curl'd as they come, they strike with furious force, And then re-flowing, take their grating course, Raking the rounded flints, which...
Page 25 - But she has treasured, and she loves them all ; When in her way she meets them, they appear Peculiar people death has made them dear. He named his friend, but then his hand she prest, And fondly whisper'd, " Thou must go to rest ;"
Page 24 - Oh ! give me that, and let me not despair, One last fond look and now repeat the prayer.
Page 311 - cross the bounding brook they make their way O'er its rough bridge, and there behold the bay ; The ocean smiling to the fervid sun, The waves that faintly fall and slowly run, The ships at distance, and the boats at hand ; And now they walk upon the sea-side sand, Counting the number, and what kind they be, Ships softly sinking in the sleepy sea...
Page 5 - He, cold and wet, and driving with the tide, Beats his weak arms against his tarry side, Then drains the remnant of diluted gin, To aid the warmth that languishes within; Renewing oft his poor attempts to beat His tingling fingers into gathering heat.
Page 18 - The living stains which Nature's hand alone, Profuse of life, pours forth upon the stone : For ever growing ; where the common eye Can but the bare and rocky bed descry ; There Science loves to trace her tribes minute, The juiceless foliage, and the tasteless fruit ; There she perceives them round the surface creep, And while they meet their due distinction keep ; Mix'd but not blended ; each its name retains, And these are Nature's ever-during stains. And wouldst thou, Artist ! with thy tints and...
Page 25 - Apart, she sigh'd; alone, she shed the tear; Then, as if breaking from a cloud, she gave Fresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave. One day he lighter seem'd, and they forgot The care, the dread, the anguish of their lot; They spoke with cheerfulness, and seem'd to think, Yet said not so 'Perhaps he will not sink'.
Page 315 - School ; That where a deaf, poor, patient widow sits, And awes some thirty infants as she knits ; Infants of humble, busy wives, who pay Some trifling price for freedom through the day. At this good matron's hut the children meet, Who thus becomes the mother of the street : Her room is small, they cannot widely stray, Her threshold high, they cannot run away...
Page 69 - So he began, and other means he found, As he went on, to multiply a pound : Though blind so long to interest, all allow That no man better understands it now. Him in our body-corporate we chose, And, once among us, he above us rose ; Stepping from post to post, he reach'd the chair, And there he now reposes that's the mayor.

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