The Morn of Life, by Anne S. Bushby
Where shall we seek the softest bloom?
On childhood's rosy, dimpled cheek;
That cheek which b...
Where shall we seek the softest bloom?
On childhood's rosy, dimpled cheek;
That cheek which b...
'Twas at the middle hour of night;
And though the moon gave her pale light,
O'er the haunted ...
Again have broken loose the fiends of war,
From the dark depths of that abyss afar
Where sin h...
'Tis sweet on the shelly beach to roam,
To gaze where the sparkling billows foam,
That shine ...
FROM THE INHABITANTS OF KENSINGTON, HAMMERSMITH, TURNHAM-GREEN, ISLEWORTH, ETC. "The a...
Spirit of Love, oh! Waft the sigh
With which thou bidd'st my bosom swell,
To her, whose cold...
Heard ye the sound of the muffled drum
And the trumpet's mournful blast?
They tell that the sol...
Now 'tis moonlight's softest hour,
When fairies leave their elfin bower
To gambol on the dewy ...
Oh! Such a heavenly night as this
Might almost lure the soul to bliss!
Might soothe the weary h...
Far, far below old Ocean's crested wave,
Deeper than lies the dark and mouldy grave,
Where n...
What would'st thou--mortal rash and blind?
Has madness triumph'd o'er thy mind,
That thou seek...
Hark, hark! What sound is yon I hear,
Borne hither on the billows clear?
Is it the voice of t...
In the bright sunny days of halcyon youth,
When life is happiness, and love is truth;
When, ...
If fairies but lived in this world of ours,
And all the wild legends about them were true;
If...
How sweet are the hopes and the pleasures of youth,
Ere misfortune has blighted their springs t...