The Wheat-sheaf; Or, Gleanings for the Wayside and Fireside ...W.P. Hazard, 1853 - 416 páginas |
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Página 13
... hath given the stone and clay : " Tis I must fashion them aright— ' Tis I must mould them day by day , And make my labour my delight . This cot , this palace , this fair home , This pleasure house , this holy dome , Must be in all ...
... hath given the stone and clay : " Tis I must fashion them aright— ' Tis I must mould them day by day , And make my labour my delight . This cot , this palace , this fair home , This pleasure house , this holy dome , Must be in all ...
Página 14
... hath passed , Shall leave its rafters doubly strong . I'll build it so that travellers by Shall view it with admiring eye , For its commodiousness and grace : Firm on the ground , straight to the sky , A meek but goodly dwelling place ...
... hath passed , Shall leave its rafters doubly strong . I'll build it so that travellers by Shall view it with admiring eye , For its commodiousness and grace : Firm on the ground , straight to the sky , A meek but goodly dwelling place ...
Página 16
... hath never swung , Where the Indian roams sole monarch and the panther rears her young ; In meadows of the wilderness , where proudly in the air , The Elk his antlers tosseth , and the Bison makes his lair ; From heights where the ...
... hath never swung , Where the Indian roams sole monarch and the panther rears her young ; In meadows of the wilderness , where proudly in the air , The Elk his antlers tosseth , and the Bison makes his lair ; From heights where the ...
Página 23
... hath past ! " Day ! " " and what dost thou see ? " " I see nought but the Vast ! " What matter ? he's calm ! but ah stranger , if you Had your hand on his heart , with such glory in view ; Had you felt the wild throb of despair and ...
... hath past ! " Day ! " " and what dost thou see ? " " I see nought but the Vast ! " What matter ? he's calm ! but ah stranger , if you Had your hand on his heart , with such glory in view ; Had you felt the wild throb of despair and ...
Página 35
... hath flown ; That way - side wanderer now A venerable sage hath grown , With years traced on his brow . More bent in form , more dim of eye , More faltering in his pace : But time has stamped in dignity , More than it reft of grace ...
... hath flown ; That way - side wanderer now A venerable sage hath grown , With years traced on his brow . More bent in form , more dim of eye , More faltering in his pace : But time has stamped in dignity , More than it reft of grace ...
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The Wheat-Sheaf, Or Gleanings for the Wayside and Fireside (Classic Reprint) Sin vista previa disponible - 2016 |
Términos y frases comunes
ages angel appeared bear beauty beneath blessed bright bring brow called child Christ Christian cloud dark dead dear death deep divine dreams earth Ellwood eternal evil fair faith fall father fear feel feet fell felt flowers give glory grave green hand hath head hear heart Heaven holy hope hour human kind labour leave less light living look Lord meet mind mountains nature never night o'er object once passed peace poor prayer present principles prison Quaker reach rest rise round says seemed seen shadow sight silent soul sound spirit stand star strong sweet thee thine things thou thought true truth turned voice waters waves weak weary whole young
Pasajes populares
Página 276 - For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.
Página 157 - O men with Sisters dear ! O men with Mothers and Wives! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives! Stitch - stitch - stitch, In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt.
Página 158 - Oh but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet, — With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet! For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal!
Página 196 - To him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Página 172 - Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form ! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge ! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity ! 0 dread and silent mount ! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in...
Página 372 - THE snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
Página 277 - Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth...
Página 197 - The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom — Take the wings Of morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings...
Página 198 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Página 158 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread : Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this