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319. oldal - Behold, the Assyrian was a cedar in Lebanon with fair branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and of an high stature ; and his top was among the thick boughs.
lvii. oldal - Uncared for, gird the windy grove, And flood the haunts of hern and crake; Or into silver arrows break The sailing moon in creek and cove...
125. oldal - I praise the Frenchman*, his remark was shrewd — How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, Whom I may whisper — solitude is sweet.
7. oldal - Our outward life requires them not — Then wherefore had they birth ? To minister delight to man — To beautify the earth. To comfort man — to whisper hope, Whene'er his faith is dim ; For Who so careth for the flowers Will much more care for him.
15. oldal - In the United States a man builds a house in which to spend his old age, and he sells it before the roof is on; he plants a garden and lets it just as the trees are coming into bearing; he brings a field into tillage and leaves other men to gather the crops; he embraces a profession and gives it up; he settles in a place, which he soon afterwards leaves to carry his changeable longings elsewhere.
7. oldal - God might have made the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak tree and the cedar tree, Without a flower at all.
198. oldal - Above, below, aerial murmurs swell, From hanging wood, brown heath, and bushy dell ! A thousand nameless rills, that shun the light, Stealing soft music on the ear of night. So oft the finer movements of the soul, That shun the sphere of Pleasure's gay control, In the still shades of calm Seclusion rise, And breathe their sweet, seraphic harmonies...
5. oldal - It is good to make two blades of grass grow where only one grew before.
27. oldal - It is the very emblem of a maid; For when the west wind courts her gently, How modestly she blows, and paints the sun With her chaste blushes! When the north comes near her, Rude and impatient, then, like chastity, She locks her beauties in her bud again, And leaves him to base briars.
xxviii. oldal - Angry volumes of politics have we written none, but only peaceful books, humbly aiming to weave something more into the fair garland of the beautiful and useful, that encircles this excellent old Earth.

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