The Poetical Works of Robert Southey, 2

Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1853

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˹ 257 - MY days among the Dead are past ; Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old: My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day.
˹ 257 - Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old : My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day. With them I take delight in weal And seek relief in woe ; And while I understand and feel How much to them I owe, My cheeks have often been bedew'd With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
˹ 191 - O READER ! hast thou ever stood to see The Holly Tree ? The eye that contemplates it well perceives Its glossy leaves Order'd by an intelligence so wise, As might confound the Atheist's sophistries. Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen Wrinkled and keen ; No grazing cattle through their prickly round Can reach to wound ; But as they grow where nothing is to fear, Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear.
˹ 258 - With tears of thoughtful gratitude. My thoughts are with the Dead ; with them I live in long-past years, Their virtues love, their faults condemn, Partake their hopes and fears, And from their lessons seek and find Instruction with an humble mind. My hopes are with the Dead ; anon My place with them will be, And I with them shall travel on Through all Futurity ; Yet leaving here a name, I trust, That will not perish in the dust.
˹ 37 - My brethren, these are truths, and weighty ones : Ye are all equal ; Nature made ye so. Equality is your birthright ; when I gaze On the proud palace, and behold one man, In the blood-purpled robes of royalty, Feasting at ease, and lording over millions ; Then turn me to the hut of poverty, And see the wretched labourer, worn with toil, Divide his scanty morsel with his infants, I sicken, and, indignant at the sight, Blush for the patience of humanity.
˹ 196 - And therefore was it she was sent Abroad to beg for bread. We saw a woman sitting down Upon a stone to rest; She had a baby at her back, And another at her breast. I...
˹ 168 - You are old, father William," the young man cried, "And pleasures with youth pass away. And yet you lament not the days that are gone; Now tell me the reason, I pray.
˹ 168 - THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW HE GAINED THEM. " You are old, Father William," the young man cried ; " The few locks which are left you are gray ; You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man : Now tell me the reason, I pray.
˹ 202 - Often together have we talk'd of death ; How sweet it were to see All doubtful things made clear ; How sweet it were with powers Such as the Cherubim, To view the depth of Heaven ! O Edmund ! thou hast first Begun the travel of Eternity ! I gaze amid the stars, And think that thou art there, Unfetter'd as the thought that follows thee.
˹ 244 - LET no man write my epitaph ; let my grave Be uninscribed, and let my memory rest Till other times are come, and other men, Who then may do me justice.