The Seeker, Or, the Exiled Spirit; And Other Poems

The Seeker, Or, the Exiled Spirit; And Other Poems

By (author) 

List price: US$14.14

Currently unavailable

Add to wishlist

AbeBooks may have this title (opens in new window).

Try AbeBooks


This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1845 edition. Excerpt: ... speed can take it, as it journeys on, Subject to all, yet still the slave of none. The enfranchised soul starts only at the sound Of immortality, scorning the mound Of feeble earth, that hides it from the sight Of endless bliss and freedom's stainless light; It pants to fly, it struggles to advance Its guerdon bliss, life its inheritance. Home of the Spirit. Oh! unfeigned isle Of happy Leuce, what pleasures there beguile The soul's delights, the bliss of being free, The hopes, the joys that mark eternity. The loved and lost are there, and there will come Those we now love on earth; the Spirit's home. There from the world set free, and earth and sin, Where but the pure in heart can enter in, The Spirit rests from toil, no more can tears The soul oppress, vain hopes and withering fears Alike depart, when from its bonds set free, The Spirit strikes for immortality. But to our tale;--our traveller again Began his march, for somewhat soothed the pain Of his regret, by thoughts of sunny home, And the proud hope of pleasures yet to come. Still with a heavy heart he journeyed on, For dark the night, tho' dazzling the dawn Of smiling Morn, for Morning's cheering light But sheds its rays, when darkness takes her flight; As hopes, and fairest hopes beam out of fears, And smiles are sweetest when they follow tears. It was a morn in Autumn; there had been A blighting hand laid on the sparkling green Of the wide spreading fields, their holy lustre gone, A chilling dew, like tear-drops hanging on An infant's brow, bore down the feeble frame Of each small blade of grass, waiting to claim Its little portjon of that glorius sun, From whose bright smiles, its light, its life are won. There was a silence, which like death's own voice Whispered, be still, as if of...
show more

Product details

  • Paperback | 32 pages
  • 189 x 246 x 2mm | 77g
  • Miami Fl, United States
  • English
  • black & white illustrations
  • 1236656202
  • 9781236656209