There is in stillness oft a magic power To calm the breast, when struggling passions lower; Touch'd by its influence, in the soul arise Diviner feelings, kindred with the skies.
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowersIs always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.thomas moore
He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay.john milton
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.thomas moore
But light as any wind that blows So fleetly did she stir, The flower, she touch'd on, dipt and rose, And turned to look at her.
How his eyes languish! how his thoughts adore That painted coat, which Joseph never wore! He shows, on holidays, a sacred pin. That touch'd the ruff, that touched Queen Bess' chin.Edward Young
In tears she utter'd as the frozen snow touch'd by the spring's mild ray, begins to flow, So just began to melt his stubborn soul, As mild-ray'd pity o'er the tyrant stole; But destiny forbade: with eager zeal, Again pretended for the public weal, Her fierce accusers urged her speedy doom; Again dark rage diffused its horrid gloom O'er stern Alonzo's brow: swift at the sign, Their swords unsheathed around her brandish'd shine. O foul disgrace, of knighthood lasting stain, By men of arms a helpless lady slain!william julius mickle
Then, going off, she sprinkled her with juice, / Which leaves of baneful aconite produce. / touch'd with the pois'nous drug, her flowing hair / Fell to the ground, and left her temples bare; / Her usual features vanish'd from their place, / Her body lessen'd all, but most her face. / Her slender fingers, hanging on each side / With many joynts, the use of legs supply'd: / A spider's bag the rest, from which she gives / A thread, and still by constant weaving lives.
The sportive hopes that used to chase their shifting shadows on,Like children playing in the sun, are gone—for ever gone;And on a careless, sullen peace, my double-fronted mind,Like Janus, when his gates are shut, looks forward and behind.Apollo placed his harp, of old, awhile upon a stone,Which has resounded since, when struck, a breaking harp string's tone;And thus my heart, though wholly now from early softness free,If touch'd, will yield the music yet, it first received of thee.edward coote pinkney
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