. Perfect pearls of poetry and prose; the most unique, touching, inspiring and beautiful literary . nation could I make to him? I toldhira be would have to wait until my mind was composed, and then I wouldlet him understand the matter fully. But he never would have had theparticulars from me, for I do not approve of neighbors that shoot at you,break in your door, and treat you in your own house as if you were a jail-bird. He knows all about it, however,—somebody has told hira—sorne-hody tells everybody every thing in our village. FLORENCE VANE. PHILIP P. COOKE. LOVED thee long and
. Perfect pearls of poetry and prose; the most unique, touching, inspiring and beautiful literary . nation could I make to him? I toldhira be would have to wait until my mind was composed, and then I wouldlet him understand the matter fully. But he never would have had theparticulars from me, for I do not approve of neighbors that shoot at you,break in your door, and treat you in your own house as if you were a jail-bird. He knows all about it, however,—somebody has told hira—sorne-hody tells everybody every thing in our village. FLORENCE VANE. PHILIP P. COOKE. LOVED thee long and dearly, Florence Vane;My lifes bright dream and early Hath come again;I renew in my fond vision My hearts dear pain,My hopes and thy derision, Florence Vane ! The ruin, lone and hoary. The ruin thou didst hark my story At even told,That spot, the hues elysian Of sky and plainI treasure in my vision, Florence Vane! Thou wast lovelier than the roses In their prime;Thy voice excelled the closes Of sweetest rhyme;Thy heart was as a river Without a I had loved thee never, Florence But fairest, coldest wonder! Thy glorious clayLieth the green sod under; Alas the day! 282 THE SONG OF THE SHIRT. And it boots not to remember Thy disdain,To quicken loves pale ember, Florence Vane! The lilies of the valley By young graves weep, The daisies love to dally Where maidens sleep. May their bloom in beauty vyingNever wane Where thine earthly part is lying,Florence Vane. RING THE BELL SOFTLY. DEXTER SMITH. ^^yfOME one has gone from this strange^^^ world of ours, -^ No more to gather its thorns withits flowers ; No more to linger where sunbeams must fade,\Vhere on all beauty deaths fingers are laid;Weary with mingling lifes bitter and sweet,Weary with parting and never to meet,Some one has gone to the bright golden shore;Ring the bell softly, theres crape on the door!Ring the bell softly, theres crape on the door! Some one is resting from Borrow and sin,Happy where
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Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectenglishliterature
