Wild Jack: Or, The Stolen Child: and Other Stories. Including the Celebrated Magnolia Leaves

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A. Hart, late Carey & Hart, 1854 - 261 oldal

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253. oldal - I am a stranger and a sojourner with you : give me a possession of a buryingplace with you, that I may bury my dead out of my sight.
93. oldal - For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee.
52. oldal - It's no in books, it's no in lear, To make us truly blest : If happiness hae not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest...
98. oldal - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrow, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
93. oldal - In the day of my trouble I will call upon thee — for thou wilt answer me.
205. oldal - He is a noble gentleman, withal Happy in his endeavours : the general voice Sounds him for courtesy, behaviour, language, And every fair demeanor, an example ; Titles of honour add not to his worth, Who is himself an honour to his titles.
204. oldal - But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
226. oldal - Now not a sullying breath can rise, To dim thy glory in the skies. We rear no marble o'er thy tomb ; No sculptured image there shall mourn ; Ah ! fitter far the vernal bloom Such dwelling to adorn. Fragrance, and flowers, and dews, must be The only emblems meet for thee. Thy grave shall be a blessed shrine, Adorned with Nature's brightest wreath ; Each glowing season shall combine Its incense there to breathe ; And oft, upon the midnight air, Shall viewless harps be murmuring there.
192. oldal - I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine...
203. oldal - Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid; They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires, Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires ; The virgin's wish without her fears impart, Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart, Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.

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