The Ladies' Casket: A Gift of Friendship for the Young

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Edward A. Rice, 1848 - 288 oldal

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95. oldal - O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing, away ! Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be ! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place, — O, to abide in the desert with thee ! JAMES HOGG.
288. oldal - In all places, then, and in all seasons, Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, How akin they are to human things. And with childlike, credulous affection We behold their tender buds expand ; Emblems of our own great resurrection, Emblems of the bright and better land.
287. oldal - SPAKE full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.
26. oldal - tis lovely ! — Childhood's lip and cheek, Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought ! Gaze — yet what seest thou in those fair, and meek. And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought ? — Thou seest what Grief must nurture for the sky, What Death must fashion for Eternity...
189. oldal - Prayer is a creature's strength, his very breath and being ; Prayer is the golden key that can open the wicket of Mercy ; Prayer is the magic sound that saith to Fate, So be it; Prayer is the slender nerve that moveth the muscles of Omnipotence.
128. oldal - T is sweet to thee To sit where birds can sit alone, Or share with thee thy venturous throne. Child of the town and bustling street, What woes and snares await thy feet! Thy paths are paved for long, long miles, Thy groves and hills are peaks and tiles ; Thy fragrant air is yon thick smoke, Which shrouds thee like a mourning cloak...
284. oldal - I give thee to thy God — the God that gave thee, A wellspring of deep gladness to my heart ! And precious as thou art, And pure as dew of Hermon, He shall have thee, My own, my beautiful, my undefiled, And thou shalt be His child.
1. oldal - State, From the Rebel's noisy hate, In a cottaged vale She dwells Listening to the Sabbath bells ! Still around her steps are seen Spotless Honour's meeker mien, Love, the sire of pleasing fears, Sorrow smiling through her tears, And conscious of the past employ Memory, bosom-spring of joy.
22. oldal - Holy intention is to the actions of a man that which the soul is to the body, or form to its matter, or the root to the tree, or the sun to the world, or the fountain to a river, or the base to a pillar : for without these the body is a dead trunk, the matter is sluggish, the tree is a block, the world is darkness, the river is quickly dry, the pillar rushes into flatness and a ruin ; and the action is sinful, or unprofitable and vain.
253. oldal - And death's full joy is given, Of those who sit and love you up in heaven, Say not,

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