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Página 419 - Much have I seen and known ; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honour'd of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
Página 323 - That both are tied till one shall have expired. Sad thought! to lose the spouse that was adorning Our days, and put one's servants into mourning. There's doubtless something in domestic doings Which forms, in fact, true love's antithesis; Romances paint at full length people's wooings, But only give a bust of marriages; For no one cares for matrimonial cooings, There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss; Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?
Página 211 - T is summer in yon heaven, Where, teachers, ye shall know, While time shall last, the blessedness Wrought by your love below. 679. 8 & 7s. M. HOHNE. Autumn Warnings. 1 SEE the leaves around us falling, Dry and withered, to the ground ; Thus to thoughtless mortals calling , In a sad and solemn sound...
Página 418 - The tale is well told, the interest warmly sustained throughout, and the delineation of female character is marked by a delicate sense of moral beauty. It is a work that may be confided to the hands of a daughter by her parent.
Página 177 - Have you marked but the fall of the snow, Before the soil hath smutched it ? Have you felt the wool of the beaver, Or swan's down ever ? Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier ? Or the nard in the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the bee ? O so white ! O so soft ! O so sweet is she ! n.
Página 135 - tis and ever was my wish and way To let all flowers live freely, and all die (Whene'er their Genius bids their souls depart) Among their kindred in their native place. I never pluck the rose ; the violet's head Hath shaken with my breath upon its bank And not reproached me ; the ever-sacred cup Of the pure lily hath between my hands Felt safe, unsoiled, nor lost one grain of gold.
Página 339 - I saw pale kings, and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried — "La belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!" I saw their starved lips in the gloam With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke and found me here On the cold hill's side. And this is why I sojourn here Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake, And no birds sing.
Página 418 - 'The Mother's Recompense' forms a fitting close to its predecessor, ' Home Influence.' The results of maternal care are fully developed, its rich rewards are set forth, and its lesson and its moral are powerfully enforced.
Página 1 - And kiss again with tears! For when we came where lies the child We lost in other years, There above the little grave...
Página 419 - is one to be recollected, and he has not erred in giving an outline ot it to the public."— The Lancet.

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