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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Page 535

Jane Taylor. (1783–1824) (continued)
    Oh that it were my chief delight
  To do the things I ought!
Then let me try with all my might
  To mind what I am taught.
          For a Very Little Child. 1
    Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My mother.
          My Mother.
Reginald Heber. (1783–1826)
    Failed the bright promise of your early day.
    No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung;
Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung. 2
Majestic silence!
    Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.
    By cool Siloam’s shady rill
  How sweet the lily grows!
          First Sunday after Epiphany. No. ii.
    When Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.
          Seventh Sunday after Trinity.
    Death rides on every passing breeze,
  He lurks in every flower.
          At a Funeral. No. i.
    Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee,
Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb.
          At a Funeral. No. ii.
    Thus heavenly hope is all serene,
  But earthly hope, how bright soe’er,
Still fluctuates o’er this changing scene,
  As false and fleeting as ’t is fair.
          On Heavenly Hope and Earthly Hope.
Note 1.
Written by Ann Taylor. [back]
Note 2.
Altered in later editions to—
No workman’s steel, no ponderous axes rung,
Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung. [back]