Browse Items (752 total)

No children wept o'er thee; No wife mourned thy doom, But strangers have laid thee Within the dark tomb Oh! thine was the sorrow That knoweth no care, That clouds the bright morrow Too dark to endure. Oh! none soothed thy pillow; No ear…

I love thee, long past time; Thy memory is to me, Sweet as the early village chime, Slow wafted o'er the lea:- I love to sit and muse On thy fast fading hour - And bless the gentle hope that strews My closing path with flowers. 'Tis to unfold…

There is a charm, whose powerful spell The vestal's feeling e'en can tell, While thro' her veins a thrill there flies. Whose sweet impression never dies: And, strange to tell, she knows not why A tear should start in either eye. This soft'ning…

See a fond mother, and her young ones round, Her soul soft melting with maternal love, Some to her breast she clasps, and others prove By kisses her affection: on the ground Her ready foot affords a rest for one, Another smiling sits upon her…

Like to the falling of a star,
Or as the flights of eagles are;
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew;
Or like a wind that chafes the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood;
Ev'n such is man, whose borrow'd…

Why gaze ye on my hoary hair, Ye children young and gay? Your locks beneath the blast of care, Will bleach as white as they. I had a mother once, like you, Who o'er my pillow hung, Kiss'd from my cheek the briny dew, And taught my faultering…

"Black, I am, oh! daughters fair,"
But my beauty is most rare;
Black, indeed, appears my skin,
Beauteous, comely, all within:
Black when by affliction press'd,
Beauteous, when in Christ I rest;
Black, by sins defiling flood,
Beauteous, wash'd…

Hail, the enrapturing Jubilee! Tis fifty years today, Since this great nation was made free From despotism's sway. While music, bells and cannons peal, To hail the festive day, The thoughts within my bosom steal, Of helpless - Africa! Now.…

There is a song - How wildly sweet, we never may forget. It seals along Ere the cold tumult of the world is met; It tells of hearts more gay and forms more fair Than ever crossed us in life's wilderness, And many a form of loveliness is…