Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings. . . . and skim away. In Memoriam. xlvii. Hold thou the good: define it well: For fear divine Philosophy Should push beyond her mark, and be Procuress to the Lords of Hell. O yet we trust that somehow good Ibid. lii. Will be the final goal of ill. Ibid. liii. But what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry. Ibid. liii. So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life. Ibid. liv. The great world's altar-stairs, That slope through darkness up to God. Who battled for the true, the just. Ibid. liv. Ibid. lv. And grasps the skirts of happy chance, Ibid. lxiii. And lives to clutch the golden keys, To mould a mighty state's decrees, And shape the whisper of the throne. Ibid. Ixiii. So many worlds, so much to do, So little done, such things to be. Ibid. lxxii. Thy leaf has perished in the green. In Memoriam. lxxiv. There lives more faith in honest doubt, Believe me, than in half the creeds. Ring out wild bells to the wild sky. Ibid. xcv. Ibid. cv. Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in. Ibid. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; And thus he bore without abuse And soil'd with all ignoble use. One God, one law, one element, Ibid. Ibid. cx. Ibid. Conclusion. That jewell'd mass of millinery, Ah Christ, that it were possible The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be. Maud. xxvi. 3. O good gray head which all men knew. Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. The Charge of the Light Brigade. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them. Mastering the lawless science of our law, That wilderness of single instances. Ibid. Aylmer's Field. JAMES ALDRICH. 1810-1856. Her suffering ended with the day, Yet lived she at its close, And breathed the long, long night away, In statue-like repose. A Death-Bed. But when the sun, in all his state, Illumed the eastern skies, She passed through Glory's morning gate, And walked in Paradise. Ibid. CHARLES DICKENS. 1812-1870. A demd, damp, moist, unpleasant body! Nicholas Nickleby. Ch. xxxiv. My Life is one demd horrid grind. In a Pickwickian sense. Ibid. Ch. lxiv. Pickwick. Ch. i. Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green, That creepeth o'er ruins old! Of right choice food are his meals, I ween, In his cell so lone and cold. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the Ivy green. Ibid. Ch. vi. He's tough, ma'am, tough is J. B. Tough and de-vilish sly. Dombey and Son. Ch. vii. When found, make a note of. Ibid. Ch. xv. The bearings of this observation lays in the application on it. Barkis is willin'. Ibid. Ch. xxiii. David Copperfield. Ch. v. Whatever was required to be done, the Circumlocution Office was beforehand with all the public departments in the art of perceiving How Little Dorrit. Ch. x. NOT TO DO IT. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial Christmas Carol. Stave two. smile. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. The freeman casting with unpurchased hand The vote that shakes the turrets of the land. Poetry, a Metrical Essay. Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky. Nail to the mast her holy flag, Set every threadbare sail, And give her to the God of storms, When the last reader reads no more. Ibid. Ibid. The Last Reader. The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom; And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; The Last Leaf. But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer! Thou say'st an undisputed thing In such a solemn way. Ibid. To an Insect. |