Reminiscences of Henry Clay Barnabee: Being an Attempt to Account for His Life, with Some Excuses for His Professional Career

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Chapple, 1913 - 461 Seiten
 

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Seite 199 - BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on. I have seen him in the...
Seite 131 - I shall pass through this world but once. Any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.
Seite 408 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free.
Seite 248 - Westward the course of empire takes its way, The four first acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day : Time's noblest offspring is the last.
Seite 215 - Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Seite 353 - Conductor, when you receive a fare, Punch in the presence of the passenjare! A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, A pink trip slip for a three-cent fare, Punch in the presence of the passenjare!
Seite 94 - So — let him writhe! How long Will he live thus? Quick, my good pencil, now! What a fine agony works upon his brow! Ha! gray-hair'd, and so strong! How fearfully he stifles that short moan!
Seite 93 - Parrhasius stood, gazing forgetfully Upon his canvas. There Prometheus lay, Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus— The vulture at his vitals, and the links Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh...
Seite 96 - Vain — vain — give o'er ! His eye Glazes apace. He does not feel you now — Stand back ! I'll paint the death-dew on his brow ! Gods...
Seite 175 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.

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