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Robert_Southey_poet.jpg

Get up, little sister; the morning is bright,And the birds are all singing to welcome the light;The buds are all opening - the dew's on the flower;If you shake but a branch, see there falls quite a shower.By the side of their mothers, look, under the…

It is unnatural, we learn by sight, For things to sorrow long. Philosophy, Whose ken is clear, does prove us this. Still night, Which sits, so frequent weeping that the eye Of twilight should neglect her, - scorns to sigh, So soon as wooers…

"A NEW YEAR'S GIFT," from thee, O Lord, I crave!For thou are full, and overflowest stillWith blessings spiritual, through the whole churchArrived in heaven, and all who wait below,Thy sovereign call to hear, and all who wait below,Have tasted of thy…

Sweet little flower, thy bloom is fled, Thy tender leaves are pale and dead, And scatter'd, (once so rosy red,) O'er the cold tomb. Around thee now in vain may beam The summer's ray, or winter's gleam; No sun can pierce the slumberer's dream, In…

How sweet the pensive hour of even, When Nature sinking to repose, Robed in the loveliest dies of Heaven, Around her glowing shadow throws. Yon Golden cloud, arrayed in beauty, So richly tinged with every hue, What artist's skill can ever…

I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial-ground, "God's Acre!" It is just; It consecrates each grave within its walls, And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. "God's-Acre!" Yes; that blessed name imparts Comfort to those,…

Proudly on Cressy's tented wold The Lion flag of England flew; As proudly gleamed its crimson fold O'er the dun heights of Waterloo: But other lyres shall greet the brave; Sing now, that we have freed the Slave. The ocean plain, where Nelson…

I PLUCK'D a Rose for thee, sweet friend, Thine ever favorite flower, A bud I long had nurs'd for thee, Within my wintry bower; I group'd it with the fragrant leaves That on the myrtle grew, And tied it with a silken string Of soft cerulean…

SWEET music in the wave-worn ear! It is the seaman's cry, When the first speck of home-land near Breaks on the eager eye; Then, loud as lip the news can spread, The top-mast man shouts - "Land a-head!" O, as those gladsome tidings speed Down…
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