Poems (Classic Reprint) - Couverture souple

Stephens, Eliza Jane

Couverture souple

ISBN 10 : 0243258860 ISBN 13 : 9780243258864

Editeur : Forgotten Books, 2018

Synopsis

The digital edition of all books may be viewed on our website before purchase. Excerpt from Poems



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This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works. This text has been digitally restored from a historical edition. Some errors may persist, however we consider it worth publishing due to the work's historical value.The digital edition of all books may be viewed on our website before purchase.

A propos du livre

Présentation de l'éditeur

Twas Spring, though tiny drifts of snow A long the fence were seen ;T he trees had not put on their leaves The meadows were not green. The sky had yet a Wintry look, That cold and cheerless blue, Save where the sunlight touched a cloud With faintest rosy hue. Just then, while standing in my door, I heard as sweec a strain As eer had fallen on my ear. Or ever will again. Twas but a robins simple song ;Y et twas so soft and clear, It woke a thousand memories, My heart still owned as dear. It seemed, indeed, the very note I heard long years ago. While wandering by the brook one day. To mark its changeful flow. It called to mind the face and form, And een the voices tone, Of those who sported wilb me then, Though many years have flown, Since eagerly we climbed that hill. And sought and found the nest, Where objects of untiring love Their downy pillow prest. I saw the looks of wondeiment, And every childish word Was fresh again in memory, As if but lately heard. They seemed to me as children still. Each brow all smooth and fair; I could not think of them as changed Since when I saw them there ;I tseemed as if the robins song Would find them just as gay ;T heir step as light, their cheek as fresh. As on thatS ummer sday. As if no chilling blast of care Had ever oer them swept; As if oer no departed joys They eer had sighed or wept. And yet I know it could not be, For I have sadder grown ;I tcannot be of all that band That I am changed alone. COMPENSATION. There smany a wreath for the conqueror bold Who widens his countrys domain, Though every rood was bought dearly with blood, And mothers are mourning the slaiu. There schapters and songs for the fortunate ones Who win in the struggle for fame. They give to our souls the sweet treasures of thought And justly a tribute can claim, We ve praises for beauty, we marvel at wit, Though both are so transient and vain, Tbe
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)

Détails de l'édition

• Éditeur: Forgotten Books
• Date d'édition: 2018
• Langue: anglais
• ISBN 10: 0243258860
• ISBN 13: 9780243258864
• Reliure: Broché
• Nombre de pages: 28
• Coordonnées du fabricant: Copytech (UK) Ltd, Trading as Printondemand-worldwide.com; gpsr@podww.com; ; 9 Culley Court; Orton Southgate; Peterborough; Cambridgeshire; PE2 6WA; Royaume-Uni
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