Mignonette, a sketch, by the author of The curate of Holy Cross. [signing himself E.R.S.].

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Sivu 65 - Within himself, from more to more; Or, crown'd with attributes of woe Like glories, move his course, and show That life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom To shape and use.
Sivu 97 - Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine; A being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller betwixt life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength and skill : A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With...
Sivu 1 - O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Sivu 116 - Jesus' sake. But Thou, dear Lord! Whilst I traced out bright scenes which were to come, Isaac's pure blessings and a verdant home, Didst spare me, and withhold Thy fearful word; Wiling me, year by year, till I am found, A pilgrim pale, with Paul's sad girdle bound.
Sivu 176 - With all the while a cheek whose bloom Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray; An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur — not A groan o'er his untimely lot...
Sivu 255 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Sivu 1 - Her circle. Wait, and Love himself will bring The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit Of wisdom. Wait: my faith is large in Time, And that which shapes it to some perfect end.
Sivu 232 - Liker to heaven then mortall wretchednesse: Therefore the winged God, to let men weet That here on earth is no sure happinesse, A thousand sowres hath tempred with one sweet, To make it seeme more deare and dainty, as is meet.
Sivu 18 - I AM not one who much or oft delight To season my fireside with personal talk, Of friends, who live within an easy walk, Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight : And, for my chance-acquaintance, ladies bright, Sons, mothers, maidens withering on the stalk...
Sivu 176 - And not a word of murmur — not A groan o'er his untimely lot,— A little talk of better days, A little hope my own...

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