Heavy stakes

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Charing Cross Publishing Company, 1875 - 184 Seiten
 

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Seite 116 - Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Seite 116 - Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Seite 118 - ... COME to me often, sportive Memory : Thy hands are full of flowers ; thy voice is sweet ; Thine innocent uncareful look doth meet The solitary cravings of mine eye ; I cannot let thee flit unheeded by, For I have gentle words, wherewith to greet Thy welcome visits. Pleasant hours are fleet ; So let us sit and talk the sand-glass dry, Dear visitant, who comest, dark and light, Morning and evening, and with merry voice Tellest of new occasion to rejoice ; And playest round me in the fairy night...
Seite 142 - ... will not lie fallow for half an hour. If a patient, habituated to reflection, has nothing else to meditate, his intellect and fancy will muse exclusively over his own -ailments ;— Muse over a finger-ache and engender a gangrene. What, then, should be done ? Change the occupation, vary the culture, call new organs into play; restore the equilibrium deranged in overweighting one scale by weights thrown into another.
Seite 116 - The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Seite 159 - I do not wish you to feel under any obligation to me,
Seite 5 - She was on the point of knocking when the door was opened by a young girl just coming out. " Good morning,
Seite 83 - The door at the foot of the stairs was open, and the bedroom door also, so that every word spoken above could be heard below.

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