Charles Sprague
Charles Sprague
clouds lap learned love social thee thy
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doctor's spite; Thy clouds all other clouds dispel, And lap me in delight.
fate fighting fills folly last lays lively sunday theme
The preacher, too, his Sunday theme lays down, To know what last new folly fills the town; Lively or sad, life's meanest, mightiest things, The fate of fighting cocks, or fighting king.
hate mercy soul
Hate shuts her soul when dove-eyed mercy pleads
dark dividends fat road sordid
Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends; an incarnation of fat dividends
along busy daughter eye gives glasses grave hardly keen marriage mother needle puts reads sheet tear throws till trade
Trade hardly deems the busy day begun, Till his keen eye along the sheet has run; The blooming daughter throws her needle by, And reads her schoolmate's marriage with a sigh; While the grave mother puts her glasses on, And gives a tear to some old crony gone.
lift race
Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze, We lift our heads, a race of other days.