Poems by James Hyslop ... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns |
 |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. | XXXI.
Lines on Friendship.
|
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. |
 | Poems by James Hyslop |  |
XXXI.
Lines on Friendship.
There is many a friend
Would be kind if he could;
But his feelings are cold,
And his kindness is rude.
When the waters of sorrow
In calmness grow cool,
He throws in a pebble,
And troubles the pool.
Would be kind if he could;
But his feelings are cold,
And his kindness is rude.
When the waters of sorrow
In calmness grow cool,
He throws in a pebble,
And troubles the pool.
160
There are moments when sadness
And silence are best;
When the soul in the depths
Of its thoughts seeks for rest;
When the sea and the shore
And the wood bring delight,
And the dreams of our youth,
And the darkness of night.
And silence are best;
When the soul in the depths
Of its thoughts seeks for rest;
When the sea and the shore
And the wood bring delight,
And the dreams of our youth,
And the darkness of night.
The morning of youth
Yields me many a dream;
But sad the remembrance,
And mournful the theme:
Companions of boyhood
Have sailed o'er the wave,
And the friend of my childhood
Lies cold in the grave.
Yields me many a dream;
But sad the remembrance,
And mournful the theme:
Companions of boyhood
Have sailed o'er the wave,
And the friend of my childhood
Lies cold in the grave.
Oh! many a sorrow
And sigh has been mine;
But I wanted a breast
Where my head might recline:
In my musings I oft
For a sister have sighed,
With a bosom of softness;
But that was denied.
And sigh has been mine;
But I wanted a breast
Where my head might recline:
In my musings I oft
For a sister have sighed,
With a bosom of softness;
But that was denied.
My heart has been wounded—
That wound is not heal'd;
My soul's keenest anguish
Was never reveal'd:
It was sever'd in youth
From the one that I lov'd;
That loves it in sorrow
Tho' far, far remov'd.
That wound is not heal'd;
My soul's keenest anguish
Was never reveal'd:
It was sever'd in youth
From the one that I lov'd;
That loves it in sorrow
Tho' far, far remov'd.
The heart is a fountain
Whose waters o'erflow;
The heart is a garden
Where sweet flowers will grow:
If a friend or a lover
But water the flowers,
And affection's dews fall
On the fountain like showers.
Whose waters o'erflow;
The heart is a garden
Where sweet flowers will grow:
If a friend or a lover
But water the flowers,
And affection's dews fall
On the fountain like showers.
| Poems by James Hyslop | |