Amaranth Blooms; A Collection Of Embodied Poetical Thoughts

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This is an OCR edition with typos.
Excerpt from book:
All were unchanged—not so, the form that wore Those bridal gems ;-—a film now gathered o'er Her dim and weary sight. That night the moon Shone clear and bright through her dark silent room; But its bright beams, the dead could not...
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Overview

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free.
This is an OCR edition with typos.
Excerpt from book:
All were unchanged—not so, the form that wore Those bridal gems ;-—a film now gathered o'er Her dim and weary sight. That night the moon Shone clear and bright through her dark silent room; But its bright beams, the dead could not awaken! All unperceived, her soul its flight had taken, To yon bright world, beyond our changeful sky— Her lonely grave, oft meets the traveler's eye ; A lowly mound, with wild flowers covered o'er, Marks the lone spot, where lies fair Isadore. of Spring to Written In Sickness In 1838. la it not all a dream, or do I breathe again The soft and fragrant breezes of the opening spring J Oh! I had thought ere this, to bid farewell to pain. And this dark world, and plume my spirits wing For that blest region, where all sorrows cease, And 'neath the greensward sleep the noiseless sleep of peace. Yes spring has come again, but not to me her breath Whispers sweet words of promise, as in days of vore. Her sweet sounds mingle with the voice of death ; They call my spirit hence to a far distant shore;— E'en the low brooklets moan and the soft zephyrs sigh, Mysterious warnings give, they tell me I must die. THE INVALID. 17 liaise high the casement, let the mild air liatlu- Once more with genial warmth, my faded cheek ;— Oh, Spring! not thus I hail'd thee, when thy soft dews laved My bounding steps, thine early flowers to seek. Ah, little did I deem that years of slow decay Would chain my spirit thus, and wear my youth The breath of Spring is sweet! yet'twas sweeter far, When I with volant foot, o'er hill r.nd valley roam'd! Charm'd with sweet sounds, till yon lone eve'g star, Shed its soft pensive light, o'er my ancestral home; Ah, never more shall I, in those lov'd pastimes share, Strange voices call me, through the whisp'ring air ! ...
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780217678520
  • Publisher: General Books LLC
  • Publication date: 10/14/2010
  • Pages: 46
  • Product dimensions: 7.44 (w) x 9.69 (h) x 0.10 (d)

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All were unchangednot so, the form that wore Those bridal gems ;-a film now gathered o'er Her dim and weary sight. That night the moon Shone clear and bright through her dark silent room; But its bright beams, the dead could not awaken! All unperceived, her soul its flight had taken, To yon bright world, beyond our changeful sky Her lonely grave, oft meets the traveler's eye ; A lowly mound, with wild flowers covered o'er, Marks the lone spot, where lies fair Isadore. of Spring to Written In Sickness In 1838. la it not all a dream, or do I breathe again The soft and fragrant breezes of the opening spring J Oh! I had thought ere this, to bid farewell to pain. And this dark world, and plume my spirits wing For that blest region, where all sorrows cease, And 'neath the greensward sleep the noiseless sleep of peace. Yes spring has come again, but not to me her breath Whispers sweet words of promise, as in days of vore. Her sweet sounds mingle with the voice of death ; They call my spirit hence to a far distant shore; E'en the low brooklets moan and the soft zephyrs sigh, Mysterious warnings give, they tell me I must die. THE INVALID. 17 liaise high the casement, let the mild air liatlu- Once more with genial warmth, my faded cheek ; Oh, Spring! not thus I hail'd thee, when thy soft dews laved My bounding steps, thine early flowers to seek. Ah, little did I deem that years of slow decay Would chain my spirit thus, and wear my youth The breath of Spring is sweet! yet 'twas sweeter far, When I with volant foot, o'er hill r.nd valley roam'd! Charm'd with sweet sounds, till yon lone eve'g star, Shed its soft pensive light, o'er my ancestral home; Ah, never more shall I, in those lov'dpastimes share, Strange voices call me, through the whisp'ring air ! ...
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