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The Scrap-Book: Being a Thousand Gems of Prose and Poetry
Edward Louis Colen Ward
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2017
angels ATLANTA CONSTITUTION beautiful better birds bless bloom Bob White breast breath bright brow cheer clouds comes dark darling daugh dead dear death dreams earth eternity eyes face faded fair faith fall father feel feet flowers forget gentle give glad God's golden gone grave gray hand happy happy days hear heart heaven hope hour JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY Jussey kiss land laugh leaves life's light lips live look Lord marriage memory mother neath never night o'er old oaken bucket OLD-TIME MUSIC pain past prayer rest shadows shadows fall shine sigh sing singin skies sleep smile snow song sorrow soul star-spangled banner stars sweet tears tell tender thee There's things thou thought toil true Twas Twill unto voice wait watch weary weep wife wind woman wonder words youth
Seite 318 - What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This teach me more than hell to shun, That, more than heav'n pursue.
Seite 39 - If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe — Such boasting as the Gentiles use, Or lesser breeds without the Law — Lord God of hosts, be with us yet, Lest wo forget — lest we forget!
Seite 178 - I hail as a treasure; For often at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing! And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell; Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness it rose from the well; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, arose from the well.
Seite 319 - Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.
Seite 291 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Seite 215 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Seite 215 - Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave; And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Seite 172 - WHEN I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
Seite 183 - Except for love's sake only. Do not say " I love her for her smile — her look — her way Of speaking gently, — for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day " — For these things in themselves, Beloved, may Be changed, or change for thee, — and love, so wrought, May be unwrought so. Neither love me for Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry, — A creature might forget to weep, who bore Thy comfort long, and lose thy love...