 Cold is thy brow, my son, and I am chill, As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet 'my father,' from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom!  Graphic Sketches; Or, Wanderings in the Field of Truth - Page 90by Henry Harris (Primitive Methodist Minister.) - 1867 - 116 pagesFull view - About this book
 | John Pierpont - Children's literature - 1828 - 320 pages
...hair! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy Absalom ! "Cold is thy brow, my sou ! and I am chill, As to my bosom I have tried to press...How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet " my father" from these dumb And cora lips,... | |
 | John Pierpont - Readers - 1829 - 290 pages
...glorious eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy Absalom ! " Cold is thy brow, my son...How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet " my father" from these dumb And cold lips,... | |
 | Samuel Kettell - American poetry - 1829 - 432 pages
...eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair ! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy, Absalom ! ' Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp string, yearning to caress thee, When to... | |
 | Benjamin Dudley Emerson - American literature - 1830 - 334 pages
...eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair ! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy, Absalom ! ' Cold is thy brow, my son...How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet ' my father' from these dumb And cold lips,... | |
 | Benjamin Dudley Emerson - Elocution - 1831 - 356 pages
...glorious eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy, Absalom! ' Cold is thy brow, my son!...How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet ' my father ' from these dumb And cold lips,... | |
 | John Pierpont - Readers - 1831 - 294 pages
...glorious eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy Absalom ! .,>'""* " Cold is thy brow,...chill, As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. And hear thy sweet " my father" from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom ! "The grave hath won thee.... | |
 | Benjamin Dudley Emerson - Elocution - 1831 - 356 pages
...he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy, Absalom! How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, ' Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill, As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. And hear thy sweet ' my father' from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom! Like a rich harp-string, yearning... | |
 | Charlotte Fiske Bates - American poetry - 1832 - 1022 pages
...glorious eye, And leave his stillness In this clustering hair! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb? My proud boy, Absalom! " Cold is thy brow, my son...How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet ' my father ! ' from these dumb And cold lips,... | |
 | James Hedderwick - Oratory - 1833 - 232 pages
...eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair ! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy, Absalom? " Cold is thy brow, my son!...tried to press thee — How was I wont to feel my pulse's thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thce ! And hear thy sweet ' my Father'... | |
 | Nathaniel Parker Willis - American literature - 1835 - 274 pages
...beautifully fair ! That death should settle in thy glorious eye, How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy Absalom ! " Cold is thy brow, my son...How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet " my father !" from these dumb And cold lips,... | |
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