Opposite the JailH. Hoyt, 1858 - 333 oldal |
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Alice Graylynn asked aunt beautiful believe Belle Westerly Belle's Bible blessed bonnet brow Captain cell CHAPTER cheek child Christ Christian cousin Alice cried curling dark dear door ejaculated exclaimed eyes face father feel flowers gazed gentle glance guilty hair hand happy Hattie heart heaven Holy Holy Spirit innocent jail knew laid light Linda lips little feller Littlejohn live locks look Lorine ma'am marriage Mary Miss Alice Miss Belle morning mother Nellie ness never night pale pity poor girl poor Jack Portuguese pray prisoners remember replied sailor seat seemed sick sick girl silent sleep smile soul speak spect spoke stood strange sure sweet talk tears tell thank thing thou thought tlejohn to-day trembling trunk turned uncon voice wended wicked wife window wish Witt Gildersleeve words young Gildersleeve
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3. oldal - Now black, and deep, the night begins to fall, A shade immense. Sunk in the quenching gloom, Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth. Order confounded lies ; all beauty void ; Distinction lost; and gay variety One universal blot : such the fair power Of light, to kindle and create the whole.
209. oldal - A REFLECTION AT SEA. SEE how, beneath the moonbeam's smile, Yon little billow heaves its breast, And foams and sparkles for a while, And murmuring then subsides to rest. Thus man, the sport of bliss and care, Rises on Time's eventful sea ; And, having swell'da moment there, Thus melts into eternity ! AN INVITATION TO SUPPER TO MRS.
56. oldal - Let the sighing of the prisoner come before thee ; according to the greatness of thy power preserve thou those that are appointed to die ; 12 And render unto our neighbours sevenfold into their bosom their reproach, wherewith they have reproached thee, O Lord.
166. oldal - For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie. My music shows ye have your closes. And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives.
252. oldal - Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world But those who slide along the grassy sod, And sting the luckless foot that presses them ? There are who in the path of social life Do bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun, And sting the soul — Ay, till its healthful frame Is chang'd to secret, fest'ring, sore disease, So deadly is the wound.
300. oldal - Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults To give in evidence. What then? what rests? Try what repentance can: what can it not? Yet what can it, when one can not repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul, that struggling to be free Art more engaged! Help, angels! make assay; Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe. All may be well.
156. oldal - The hint malevolent, the look oblique, The obvious satire, or implied dislike ; The sneer equivocal, the harsh reply, And all the cruel language of the eye ; The artful injury, whose...
225. oldal - He entered in the house — his home no more, For without hearts there is no home ; — and felt The solitude of passing his own door Without a welcome...
321. oldal - Throw years away ! Throw empires, and be blameless. Moments seize ; Heaven's on their wing : A moment we may wish, When worlds want wealth to buy.
77. oldal - The pen, flowing with love, or dipped black in hate, Or tipped with delicate courtesies, or harshly edged with censure, Hath quickened more good than the sun, more evil than the sword, More joy than woman's smile, more woe than frowning fortune ; And shouldst thou ask my judgment of that which hath most profit in the world, For answer take thou this, The prudent penning of a letter.