Outre Mer. Driftwood

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1872
 

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Strana 219 - Fair stood the wind for France, When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry ; But, putting to the main, At Kaux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry...
Strana 221 - No life, my honest scholar, no life so happy and so pleasant, as the life of a well-governed angler; for when the lawyer is swallowed up with business, and the statesman is preventing or contriving plots, then we sit on cowslip banks, hear the birds sing, and possess ourselves in as much quietness as these silent silver streams, which we now see glide so quietly by us.
Strana 252 - My panting side was charged when I withdrew To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. ^ There was I found by one who had himself Been hurt by the archers. In his side he bore And in his hands and feet the cruel scars. With gentle force soliciting the darts He drew them forth, and healed and bade me live.
Strana 78 - There is no antidote against the opium of time, which temporally considereth all things : our fathers find their graves in our short memories, and sadly tell us how we may be buried in our survivors.
Strana 360 - Ye ! who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene Which is his last, if in your memories dwell A thought which once was his, if on ye swell A single recollection, not in vain He wore his sandal-shoon and scallop-shell; Farewell ! with him alone may rest the pain, If such there were — with you, the moral of his strain.
Strana 55 - Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze, And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore, Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.
Strana 124 - THE BAPTISM OF FIRE The more you mow us down, the thicker we rise ; the Christian blood you spill is like the seed you sow, — it springs from the earth again and fructifies the more.
Strana 128 - A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town!
Strana 223 - Neath cloistered boughs each floral bell that swingeth, And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer ; " Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane most catholic and solemn Which God hath planned ; " To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply, — Its choir the winds and waves, its organ thunder, Its dome the sky. " There, amid solitude...
Strana 117 - ... but must be licensed what they may say. And who shall silence all the airs and madrigals, that whisper softness in chambers ? The windows also and the balconies must be thought on, there are shrewd books, with dangerous frontispieces set to sale; who shall prohibit them, shall twenty licensers?

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