Ianthe: And Other Poems

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Longman, 1841 - 144 pages

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Page 135 - But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless; Minions of splendour shrinking from distress ! None that, with kindred consciousness endued, If we were not, would seem to smile the less, Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued; This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!
Page 60 - FRIEND after friend departs : Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end : Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
Page 40 - Love not, love not l The thing you love may die — May perish from the gay and gladsome earth ; The silent stars, the blue and smiling sky, Beam on its grave as once upon its birth.
Page 42 - Hail, MEMORY, hail ! in thy exhaustless mine From age to age unnumbered treasures shine ! Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, And Place and Time are subject to thy sway ! Thy pleasures most we feel, when most alone ; The only pleasures we can call our own. Lighter than air, Hope's...
Page 132 - CLXXVII •Oh, that the Desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair Spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And, hating no one, love but only her ! Ye Elements, in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted, can ye not Accord me such a being ? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot, Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot...
Page 104 - I slave to leave behind me a rich legacy of thought for the careless or ungrateful? A year ago I would not have bartered the world of fame for the world of enjoyment; both are equally beyond me, but I pine now for the latter; and, wanting that, for the calm and the quiet of the cold dark grave. The terrible passion of death is upon me; I long for that eternity which, whether of torture, of annihilation, or of a higher existence, will free me from the intolerable burden of life.
Page 121 - THERE is a land like Eden fair, But more than Eden blest ; The wicked cease from troubling there, The weary are at rest.
Page 132 - Upon my sunny way ! I see your stately houses — But the green fields, where are they ? Oh give me back the tall trees, Beneath whose spreading shade, With heart of kindling raptnre I in my boyhood played ! Alas!
Page 54 - Never from my heart) Shall Time thine image bint ; — The dreams of other days depart— Thou canst not be forgot !" THE joyous hopes of trusting youth — The dreams of early years — The confidence in others...

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