Gems for the Fireside: Comprising the Most Unique, Touching, Pithy, and Beautiful Literary Treasures from the Greatest Minds in the Realms of Poetry and Philosophy, Wit and Humor, Statesmanship and ReligionOtis Henry Tiffany Hubbard Bros., 1883 - Počet stran: 912 |
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Strana 8
... and Religion Otis Henry Tiffany. THE DIAMOND MAY ADORN ROYAL- TY , REGARDLESS OF PER- SONAL WORTH ; BUT JEWELS OF THOUGHT RENDER EVEN POVERTY ILLUSTRI- OUS AND SUB- LIME . PUBLISHERS ' PREFACE . preparing " Gems for the Fireside.
... and Religion Otis Henry Tiffany. THE DIAMOND MAY ADORN ROYAL- TY , REGARDLESS OF PER- SONAL WORTH ; BUT JEWELS OF THOUGHT RENDER EVEN POVERTY ILLUSTRI- OUS AND SUB- LIME . PUBLISHERS ' PREFACE . preparing " Gems for the Fireside.
Strana 12
... thought of men and women of genius , but rather they are the outcome of some all - absorbing inspiration resulting from intense personal feeling , or from some momentous event . Patrick Henry's ever- memorable words were fired to the ...
... thought of men and women of genius , but rather they are the outcome of some all - absorbing inspiration resulting from intense personal feeling , or from some momentous event . Patrick Henry's ever- memorable words were fired to the ...
Strana 48
... thought , and it has never slept since . ( Howard . The Cross is the prism that reveals to us the beauties of the Sun of Righteousness . ( Goulburn . Men have feeling : this is perhaps the best way of considering them . ( Richter ...
... thought , and it has never slept since . ( Howard . The Cross is the prism that reveals to us the beauties of the Sun of Righteousness . ( Goulburn . Men have feeling : this is perhaps the best way of considering them . ( Richter ...
Strana 51
... thought came o'er me , That filled my eyes with tears . How often , O how often , In the days that had gone by , I ... thought of other years . And I think how many thousands Of care - encumbered men , Each having his burden of sorrow ...
... thought came o'er me , That filled my eyes with tears . How often , O how often , In the days that had gone by , I ... thought of other years . And I think how many thousands Of care - encumbered men , Each having his burden of sorrow ...
Strana 68
... thought , though loath , On thee he leaves ; Some lines of care round both Perhaps he weaves ; Some fears , -a soft regret For joy scarce known ; Sweet looks we half forget ; - All else is flown ! SUMMER . THE WONDERFUL ONE - HOSS SHAY ...
... thought , though loath , On thee he leaves ; Some lines of care round both Perhaps he weaves ; Some fears , -a soft regret For joy scarce known ; Sweet looks we half forget ; - All else is flown ! SUMMER . THE WONDERFUL ONE - HOSS SHAY ...
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Alfred Tennyson Alice Cary angels Barry Cornwall beautiful bells beneath blessed born breath Bregenz BRET HARTE bright CHARLES DICKENS child cloud cold cried dark dead dear death deep died door dream earth eyes face father feel feet flowers forever GEMS George Eliot grave gray hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hour John kiss land laugh light live Longfellow look Lord morning mother never night o'er OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY Pickwick poems poet poor pray prayer rest river round Shakespeare shine shore silent sing sleep smile snow song sorrow soul spirit stars stood sweet tears tell thee There's things THOMAS HOOD thou thought to-day Twas voice Washington Irving wave weary wife wild WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT wind words young
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Strana 599 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Strana 207 - Nor man nor boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence, in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, — Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Strana 261 - Thy waters washed them power while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou; Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Strana 158 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, . And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore...
Strana 818 - More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Strana 202 - THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for her own.
Strana 521 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, — The desert and illimitable air, — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Strana 260 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore ; There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar : I love not man the less, but nature more...
Strana 278 - 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 "Song of the Shirt.
Strana 547 - But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.