The Magazine of Poetry, Volume 4

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Charles Wells Moulton, 1892 - Poetry

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Page 224 - A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,— In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs,— All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy love.
Page 234 - Others apart sat on a hill retired, In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate — Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute — And found no end, in wandering mazes lost.
Page 108 - NEARER, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me ; Still all my song shall be, — Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee...
Page 221 - I need thy presence every passing hour; What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power? Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
Page 342 - Except now and then a stray picket Is shot, as he walks on his beat, to and fro, By a rifleman hid in the thicket. "Tis nothing : a private or two now and then Will not count in the news of the battle ; Not an officer lost, only one of the men Moaning out all alone the death-rattle.
Page 223 - I never more shall see my own, my native land; Take a message and a token to some distant friends of mine, For I was born at Bingen — at Bingen on the Rhine. "Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around To hear my mournful story in the pleasant vineyard ground, That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun. "And 'mid the dead and dying...
Page 110 - THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. Bv the flow of the inland river, Whence the fleets of iron have fled, Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, Asleep are the ranks of the dead; Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day, Under the one, the Blue; Under the other, the Gray.
Page 235 - Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
Page 454 - The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Page 103 - Three poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpassed, The next in majesty, in both the last. The force of Nature could no farther go ; To make a third she joined the former two.

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