Posts tagged ‘1820’

Tuesday, 30 April 2019

Sonnet III by Charles Abraham Elton

It is the birth of spring; and as I pass
These hedge-rows, where in gems on every spray
The sprinkled verdure hands, and midst sloped grass
The star-like primrose clusters on my way;
The quicken’d sense inhales the season’s power;
The deep convictions that must ever be
Yield to the soothings of the balming hour,
That for the moment steals from memory
Its nutriment of poison. Oh most sweet
Illusion! that the spirit in the breast
Should for one moment from itself retreat
To outward pleasantness, and be at rest!
That leaf and flower should thus by stealth have wrought
Forgetfulness and peace—in spite of thought!

From: Elton, Charles A., The Brothers, A Monody; and Other Poems, 1820, Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy: London, p. 53.

Date: 1820

By: Charles Abraham Elton (1778-1853)

Saturday, 15 August 2015

The Mustard-Seed by John Newton Brown

Matt. xiii. 31, 32.

To what shall I liken the kingdom of God?
To a man who a very small mustard-seed took,
And, despite of its littleness, carefully sowed
Where the soil was enriched by a neighboring brook.

Beneath the warm sunbeam it sprouted and grew,
And green was the foliage of beauty it wore ;
And lofty and large were its limbs to the view,
Though the seed, of all seeds, was the smallest before.

Now a tree of great size, wide its branches extend,
And shelter and shade to the weary it shows;
And the birds of the air on its verdure depend,
And beneath its broad shadow in safety repose.

Thus, though small its beginning, the kingdom of God
Is destined to flourish, to grow, and increase,
And spread itself wider and wider abroad,
Till the whole earth repose in its shadow of peace.


From: Brown, J. Newton, Emily, and Other Poems, 1840, Israel S. Boyd: Concord, N.H., p. 45.

Date: 1820

By: John Newton Brown (1803-1860)

Thursday, 16 October 2014

The Visionary by Jane Elizabeth Roscoe Hornblower

I have been lonely, even from a child;
Tho’ bound with sweet ties to a happy home,
With all life’s sacred charities around me;
I have been lonely—for my soul had thirst
The waters of this world could not assuage:
I found them bitter, and I had high dreams,
And strange imaginations—yea, I liv’d
Amid my own creations; and a world
Of many hopes and raptures was within me,
Such as I could not tell of; for I knew
Such feelings could not bear a sympathy;
They were too sacred to admit communion,
Too blest to need it—to the fields and woods
Did my heart’s fulness pour them; solitude
Was the expansion of my secret visions,
When I could ask my soul to tell me all,
And many a bright and blessed reverie
Hath cheer’d my wanderings. I have heard sweet music
In my own thoughts; mysterious harmonies,
Felt, but not understood; vague, happy musings,
And shadowy sketches of my future fate,
In young and glowing colours. Are they faded?
—Years are gone by; and once again I commune
With my own spirit—it is passionless,
And silent now, its loveliest visions over;
And yet T do not shun this scrutiny.
Tho’ I have fed my heart with perishing joys,
They have not been in vain; for those wild hopes,
And noble aims, and all those proud aspirings,
Gave me a loftier being. I have plung’d
Within the maddening wave, unaw’d, to succour
An object of my love. I have stood calm
In danger’s fiercest moment, with a trust
Above all mortal peril. I have wander’d
O’er moors and mountains to assuage the woes
Of human kind. In all that could excite
I have been foremost:—then have woke and wept
To feel how little and how weak I was.

From: Hornblower, Jane Elizabeth Roscoe and Jevons, Mary Anne Roscoe, Poems, 1820, Baldwin, Craddock and Joy: London, pp. 41-43.

Date: 1820

By: Jane Elizabeth Roscoe Hornblower (1797-1853)