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Appletons AUTHOR beautiful Bible birds breath bright Byron called Campbell charity Cloth comes course Criticism dark Deserted Village Doctor of Divinity Dream earth Essay expression eyes feet fire followed forms give Goldsmith grass Gray green head hear heart heaven hill Holmes Hope horse illustrations interest Italy John keeps Lady Lake land Laws lead leaves LESSON light living Longfellow look Lowell March measure meet mind Moore morning names Nature never night North Notes o'er Pope present pupils rain Reader rest rise river round Scott sentence Shakespeare shore side Siege of Corinth Sir Launfal sleep Song soul sound speech spelling stars summer sweet teacher teaching things thou thought trees turn waves Whittier whole wild wind York young
Seite 155 - ... whose passions are trained to come to heel by a vigorous will, the servant of a tender conscience; who has learned to love all beauty, whether of Nature or of art, to hate all vileness, and to respect others as himself.
Seite 130 - The world recedes; it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death! where is thy sting?
Seite 130 - VITAL spark of heavenly flame ! Quit, oh, quit this mortal frame ! Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying : Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying ! Cease, fond nature ! cease thy strife, And let me languish into life ! Hark, they whisper ; angels say,
Seite 137 - Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy, And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.
Seite 135 - Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Seite 142 - ... night ; swallows and martins skimmed twittering about the eaves ; and rows of pigeons, some with one eye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with their heads under their wings, or buried in their bosoms, and others swelling, and cooing, and bowing about their dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the roof.
Seite 127 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand...
Seite 125 - The sober herd that lowed to meet their young, The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school...
Seite 148 - Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.