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Seite 237 - Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad.' ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in, stones, and good in every thing.
Seite 110 - ASHES OF ROSES SOFT on the sunset sky Bright daylight closes, Leaving when light doth die, Pale hues that mingling lie — Ashes of roses. When love's warm sun is set, Love's brightness closes; Eyes with hot tears are wet, In hearts there linger yet Ashes of roses.
Seite 156 - No, no, no; said he cut down his apple-tree." " George's apple-tree ? " "No, no; his father's." "Oh!" "He said " "His father said?" "No, no, no; George said, 'Father, I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little hatchet.
Seite 263 - There is no beautifier of complexion, or form, or behavior, like the wish to scatter joy and not pain around us.
Seite 3 - ... And, in the chantry, service there Was sung by doleful thought ; The tapers were of burning sighs, That light and odor gave ; And sorrows, painted o'er with tears, Enlumined her grave ; And round about, in quaintest guise, Was carved, " Within this tomb there lies The fairest thing in mortal eyes.
Seite 73 - And they travelled by night and they slept by day, For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star. The star was so beautiful, large, and clear, That all the other stars of the sky Became a white mist in the atmosphere, And by this they knew that the coming was near Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy.
Seite 109 - He must study and work over books he detested, His parents were strict, and he never was rested ; He knew he was wretched as wretched could be, There was no one so wretchedly wretched as he. His Maturity. His farm was too small and his taxes too big, He was selfish and lazy, and cross as a pig ; His wife was too...
Seite 223 - And our eyes at last shall see him, Through his own redeeming love, For that child so dear and gentle Is our Lord in heaven above ; And he leads his children on To the place where he is gone.
Seite 373 - A lark, arm in arm with a thrush, Came sauntering up to the place; The nightingale felt herself blush, Though feathers hid her face. She knew they had heard her song, She felt them snicker and sneer; She thought that life was too long, And wished she could skip a year. "Oh, Nightingale,