Anna Letitia Barbauld (1743 – 1825)
English poet and miscellaneous writer.
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OH! hear a pensive captive's prayer,
For liberty that sighs ;
And never let thine heart be shut
Against the prisoner's cries.
Life! we've been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
Tis hard to part when friends are dear,—
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear.
Then steal away, give little warning.
Choose thine own time,
Say not "Good-night," but in some brighter clime,
Bid me "Good-morning."
If e'er thy breast with freedom glow'd,
And spurn'd a tyrant's chain,
Let not thy strong oppressive force
A free-born mouse detain.
This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
It is to hope, though hope were lost.
The well-taught philosophic mind
To all compassion gives;
Casts round the world an equal eye,
And feels for all that lives.
With Thee in shady solitudes I walk,
With Thee in busy, crowded cities talk;
In every creature own Thy forming power,
In each event Thy providence adore.
So when unseen destruction lurks,
Which men like mice may share,
May some kind angel clear thy path,
And break the hidden snare.
So fades a summer cloud away;
So sinks the gale when storms are o’er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore.
Come calm content serene and sweet,
O gently guide my pilgrim feet
To find thy hermit cell.
Man is the nobler growth our realms supply,
And souls are ripened in our northern sky.
The chearful light, the vital air,
Are blessings widely given ;
Let nature's commoners enjoy
The common gifts of heaven.
Child of mortality, whence comest thou? Why is thy countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping?
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