Charles Sprague
Charles Sprague
hate mercy soul
Hate shuts her soul when dove-eyed mercy pleads
lift race
Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze, We lift our heads, a race of other days.
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.
dark dividends fat road sordid
Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends; an incarnation of fat dividends
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.