Essays in Little

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Henry and Company, 1891 - 205 Seiten
 

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Seite 175 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.
Seite 178 - I list no more the tuck of drum, No more the trumpet hear ; But when the beetle sounds his hum, My comrades take the spear.
Seite 123 - Good God! how pure she was; how gentle, how tender, and how friendless ! and he, how selfish, brutal, and black with crime! Heart-stained, and shamestricken, he stood at the bed's foot, and looked at the sleeping girl. How dared he — who was he, to pray for one so spotless! God bless her! God bless her! He came to the bedside, and looked at the hand, the little soft hand, lying asleep; and he bent over the pillow noiselessly towards the gentle, pale face. Two fair arms closed tenderly round his...
Seite 132 - A-swing with good tobacco in a net between the trees, With a negro lass to fan you, while you listened to the roar Of the breakers on the reef outside, that never touched the shore.
Seite 122 - ... trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the breath of life ; not one who had lived and suffered death. Her couch was dressed with here and there some winter berries and green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to favour. " When I die, put near me something that has loved the light, and had the sky above it always.'1 Those were her words.
Seite 132 - There were forty craft in Aves that were both swift and stout, All furnished well with small arms and cannons round about; And a thousand men in Aves made laws so fair and free To choose their valiant captains and obey them loyally.
Seite 89 - With sanguine drops the walls are rubied round ! Thick swarms the spacious hall with howling ghosts, To people Orcus, and the burning coasts ! Nor gives the sun his golden orb to roll, But universal night usurps the pole!
Seite 27 - Melrose rise in ruin'd pride. The quiet lake, the balmy air, The hill, the stream, the tower, the tree,— Are they still such as once they were, Or is the dreary change in me ? Alas, the warp'd and broken board, How can it bear the painter's dye ! The harp of...
Seite 57 - Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite When now the wolds are bathed in silver light. And first the moonrise breaks the dusky gray; Then down the dells, with blown soft hair and bright, And through the dim wood, Dian thrids her way.
Seite 157 - She mastered young Vindictive — Oh! the gallant lass was she, And kept him straight and won the race as near as near could be; But he killed her at the brook against a pollard willow-tree, Oh! he killed her at the brook, the brute, for all the world to see, And no one but the baby cried for poor Lorraine, Lorree.

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