Bachelor Ballads: Being Certain of the Masterpieces of Verse; Wherein is Set Forth the Sentiment of Good Fellowship; Set to Pictures

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New Amsterdam Book Company, 1898 - 159 Seiten
 

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Seite 154 - One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can. Sweet is the lore which Nature brings ; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things : — We murder to dissect.
Seite 49 - A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind!
Seite 138 - Diamonds on the brake are gleaming; And foresters have busy been To track the buck in thicket green; Now we come to chant our lay, "Waken, lords and ladies gay!
Seite 137 - Hounds are in their couples yelling, Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, Merrily, merrily, mingle they, "Waken, lords and ladies gay.
Seite 153 - tis a dull and endless strife : Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music ! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it. And hark, how blithe the throstle sings ! He, too, is no mean preacher: Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.
Seite 75 - WE sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze damp and cold An easy entrance, night and day. Not far away we saw the port, The strange, old-fashioned, silent town, The lighthouse, the dismantled fort, The wooden houses, quaint and brown.
Seite 34 - I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize; Now to the maid who has none, sir: Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, And here's to the nymph with but one, sir.
Seite 112 - Would do anything but die, And but seek to extend my days Long enough to sing thy praise. But, as she who once hath been A king's consort, is a queen Ever after, nor will bate Any...
Seite 11 - CHRISTMAS is here ; Winds whistle shrill, Icy and chill, Little care we ; Little we fear Weather without, Sheltered about The Mahogany Tree. Once on the boughs Birds of rare plume Sang, in its bloom ; Night-birds are we ; Here we carouse, Singing, like them, Perched round the stem Of the jolly old tree.
Seite 21 - Open the old cigar-box — let me consider anew — Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you ? A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke; And a woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a Smoke.

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