The Every-day Philosopher in Town and Country

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Ticknor and Fields, 1865 - 320 páginas

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Página 313 - A servant with this clause makes drudgery divine; who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, makes that and the action fine.
Página 289 - Nevermore." And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore!
Página 291 - ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise ; I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain.
Página 254 - There are briers besetting every path, That call for patient care ; There is a cross in every lot, And an earnest need for prayer ; But a lowly heart that leans on Thee Is happy anywhere. In a service which Thy will appoints, There are no bonds for me ; For my inmost heart is taught ' the truth That makes Thy children ' free ; ' And a life of self-renouncing love Is a life of liberty.
Página 296 - And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Página 292 - For these he changed the smoke of turf, A heathery land and misty sky, And turned on rocks and raging surf His golden eye. But petted in our climate cold, He lived and chattered many a day: Until with age, from green and gold His wings grew grey.
Página 308 - Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole
Página 295 - Oh ! young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. So faithful in love and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Página 203 - Nay, but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God ? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus ? Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honor, and another unto dishonor...
Página 71 - Kent. Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.

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