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All that's bright must fade.
The brightest still the fleetest;
But to be lost when sweetest.
Farewell! But whenever you welcome the hour. You
may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
Above the green elms, that a cottage was near,
“ A heart that was humble might hope for it here."
The Blue Stocking.
To weep, yet scarce know why;
Then throw it idly by.
This World is all a Fleeting Show.
For man's illusion given;
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow
Oft in the Stilly Night.
E'er slumber's chain has bound me,
Of other days around me.
Palestine. No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung ; Like some tall palm, the mystic fabric sprung. Majestic silence !
Christmas Hymn. Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.
First Sunday after Epiphany.
By cool Siloam's shady rill
How sweet the lily grows.
* Altered in later editions to
No workman steel, no ponderous axes rung,
No sound of hammer or of saw was there.
The Winter Morning Walk, B. V. COWPER
Seventh Sunday after Trinity. When spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing
At a Funeral.
No. ii. Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb.
On heavenly hope and earthly hope.
But earthly hope, how bright soe'er,
As false and fleeting as ’t is fair.
From India's coral strand,
Roll down their golden sand.
JONATHAN M. SEWALL.
Epilogue to Cato.
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
Canto i. St. 9.
Canto ii. St. 2.
Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
Stanza 23. Ah! happy years ! once more who would not be a boy ?
Childe Harold - Continued.
Stanza 76. Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not, Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow?
Age shakes Athena's towers, but spares gray Marathon.
Canto iii. St. 1.
Music arose with its voluptuous swell.
And all went merry as a marriage-bell.
Stanza 28. Battle's magnificently-stern array!