A Mingled Yarn: Sketches on Various Subjects

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Putnam's, 1883 - 164 Seiten
 

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Seite 94 - The act of order to a peopled Kingdom. They have a King, and Officers of sorts : Where some, like Magistrates, correct at home ; Others, like Merchants, venture trade abroad; Others, like Soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their Emperor...
Seite 121 - If thou art worn and hard beset With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget, If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep, Go to the woods and hills! — No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
Seite 57 - In still retreats and flowery solitudes, To Nature's voice attends, from month to month, And day to day, through the revolving year; Admiring, sees her in her every shape ; Feels all her sweet emotions at his heart; Takes what she liberal gives, nor thinks of more.
Seite 102 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Seite 148 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low. So the struck eagle...
Seite 107 - Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt.
Seite 119 - What is that, Mother ? The swan, my love ! He is floating down, from his native grove ; No loved one, now, no nestling, nigh, He is floating down, by himself, to die ; Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings, Yet the sweetest song, is the last, he sings. Live so, my love, that when death shall come, Swanlike and sweet, it may waft thee home ! 1825.
Seite 95 - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor ; Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,...
Seite 106 - With beings brighter than have been, and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh. I would recall a vision which I dream'd Perchance in sleep ; for in itself a thought, A slumbering thought, is capable of years, And curdles a long life into one hour.

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