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Irish poet
(1779 - 1852)
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Rose of the Garden! such is woman's lot--
  Worshipp'd while blooming--when she fades, forgot.
      - Rose of the Desert [Roses]

When time who steals our years away
  Shall steal our pleasures too,
    The mem'ry of the past will stay
      And half our joys renew.
      - Song--From Juvenile Poems [Memory]

To sigh, yet feel no pain,
  To weep, yet scarce know why;
    To sport an hour with Beauty's chain,
      Then throw it idly by.
      - Songs from M.P.; or, The Blue Stocking
        [Discontent : Sighs]

To weave a garland for the rose,
  And think thus crown'd 'twould lovelier be,
    Were far less vain than to suppose
      That silks and gems add grace to thee.
      - Songs from the Greek Anthology--To Weave a Garland

Disguise our bondage as we will,
  'Tis woman, woman rules us still.
      - Sovereign Woman (st. 4) [Women]

Every season hath its pleasure;
  Spring may boast her flowery prime,
    Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries
      Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
      - Spring and Autumn [Autumn]

So Life's year begins and closes;
  Days, though short'ning, still can shine;
    What though youth gave love and roses,
      Age still leaves us friends and wine.
      - Spring and Autumn [Age]

I reflected how soon in the cup of desire
  The pearl of the soul may be melted away;
    How quickly, alas, the pure sparkle of fire
      We inherit from heaven, may be quenched in the clay.
      - Stanzas--A Beam of Tranquility [Soul]

For, bless the gude mon, gin he had his ain way,
  He's na let a cat on the Sabbath say "mew;"
    Nae birdie maun whistle, nae lambie maun play,
      An' Phoebus himsel' could na travel that day,
        As he'd find a new Joshua in Andie Agnew.
      - Sunday Ethics (st. 3) [Sabbath]

Sometimes, when on the Alpine rose
  The golden sunset leaves its ray,
    So like a gem the flow'ret glows,
      We thither bend our headlong way;
        And though we find no treasure there,
          We bless the rose that shines so fair.
      - The Crystal-Hunters [Roses]

Who has not felt how sadly sweet
  The dream of home, the dream of home,
    Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet,
      When far o'er sea or land we roam?
      - The Dream of Home [Home]

I never nurs'd a dear gazelle,
  To glad me with its soft black eye,
    But when it came to know me well
      And love me, it was sure to die.
      - The Fire Worshippers [Gazelles]

Though an angel should write, still 'tis devils must print.
      - The Fudge Family in England (letter III)

Good-bye--my paper's out so nearly,
  I've only room for, Yours sincerely.
      - The Fudge Family in Paris (letter VI)

This new rage for rhyming badly,
  Which late hath seized all ranks and classes,
    Down to that new estate 'the masses.'
      - The Fudges in England (letter 4) [Society]

Yet, no--not words, for they
  But half can tell love's feeling;
    Sweet flowers alone can say
      What passion fears revealing:
        A once bright rose's wither'd leaf,
          A tow'ring lily broken,--
            Oh, these may paint a grief
              No words could e'er have spoken.
      - The Language of Flowers [Flowers]

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
  As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet.
      - The Meeting of the Waters [Nature]

Now in his Palace of the West,
  Sinking to slumber, the bright Day,
    Like a tired monarch fann'd to rest,
      'Mid the cool airs of Evening lay;
        While round his couch's golden rim
          The gaudy clouds, like courtiers, crept--
            Struggling each other's light to dim,
              And catch his last smile e'er he slept.
      - The Summer Fete (st. 22) [Sunset]

My only books
  Were woman's looks,
    And folly's all they've taught me.
      - The Time I've Lost in Wooing [Women]

The Wreath's of brightest myrtle wove
  With brilliant tears of bliss among it,
    And many a rose leaf cull'd by Love
      To heal his lips when bees have stung it.
      - The Wreath and the Chain [Flowers]

Then awake! the heavens look bright, my dear;
  'Tis never too late for delight, my dear;
    And the best of all ways
      To lengthen our days
        Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.
      - The Young May Moon [Night]

This world is all a fleeting show,
  For man's illusion given;
    The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
      Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,--
        There's nothing true but Heaven.
      - This World is all a Fleeting Show [World]

Those evening bells! those evening bells!
  How many a tale their music tells!
      - Those Evening Bells [Bells]

Never does a wilder song
  Steal the breezy lyre along,
    When the wind in odors dying,
      Wooes it with enamor'd sighing.
      - To Rosa [Wind]

Bastard Freedom waves
  Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.
      - To the Lord Viscount Forbes [Flags]

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