The Professor at the Breakfast-table: With the Story of Iris

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Ticknor and Fields, 1866 - 410 páginas

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Página 403 - Sun of our life, Thy quickening ray Sheds on our path the glow of day ; Star of our hope, Thy softened light Cheers the long watches of the night. 3 Our midnight is Thy smile withdrawn ; Our noontide is Thy gracious dawn ; Our rainbow arch Thy mercy's sign ; All, save the clouds of sin, are Thine.
Página 301 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...
Página 62 - That boy with the grave, mathematical look Made believe he had written a wonderful book, And the Royal Society thought it was true! So they chose him right in, — a good joke it was, too ! There's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain, That could harness a team with a logical chain.
Página 229 - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach.
Página 338 - Chartier has lasted four hundred years, and put it into the head of many an ill-favored poet, whether Victoria, or Eugenie, would do as much by him, if she happened to pass him when he was asleep. And have we ever forgotten that the fresh cheek of the young John Milton tingled under the lips of some high-born Italian beauty, who, I believe, did not think to leave her card by the side of the slumbering youth, but has bequeathed the memory of her pretty deed to all coming time ? The sound of a kiss...
Página 263 - So deeply had she drunken in That look, those shrunken serpent eyes, That all her features were resigned To this sole image in her mind: And passively did imitate That look of dull and treacherous hate!
Página 356 - O Love Divine, that stooped to share Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear, On Thee we cast each earthborn care, We smile at pain while Thou art near 1 Though long the weary way we tread, And sorrow crown each lingering year, No path we shun, no darkness dread, Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near...
Página 61 - Gray temples at twenty? Yes! white if we please. Where the snowflakes fall thickest there's nothing can freeze ! Was it snowing I spoke of?
Página 60 - THE BOYS. HAS there any old fellow got mixed with the boys? If there has, take him out, without making a noise! Hang the Almanac's cheat and the Catalogue's spite ! Old Time is a liar! We're twenty to-night ! We're twenty! We're twenty ! Who says we are more ? He's tipsy, — young jackanapes ! — show him the door ! — " Gray temples at twenty V
Página 62 - You hear that boy laughing? — You think he's all fun; But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done; The children laugh loud as they troop to his call, And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all.

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