Duties in the Home and the Family

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W. M. Welch, 1904 - 411 oldal
 

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312. oldal - Happy the man*, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter, fire.
361. oldal - Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid ; Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, The biscuit, or confectionary plum ; The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestowed By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed...
38. oldal - MID pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere Home ! home ! sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home...
76. oldal - WISH MINE be a cot beside the hill ; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
100. oldal - How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew! The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well — The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well.
194. oldal - I LOVE it, I love it ; and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm-chair ? I've treasured it long as a sainted prize, I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs ; Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart : Not a tie will break, not a link will start Would ye learn the spell ? a mother sat there, And a sacred thing is that old arm-chair.
34. oldal - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from- Heaven Than when I was a boy.
361. oldal - I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else, how distinct they say, 'Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!
362. oldal - I seem t' have lived my childhood o'er again, To have 'renewed the joys that once were mine, Without the sin of violating thine; And while the wings of Fancy still are free, And I can view this mimic show of thee, Time has but half succeeded in his theft — Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.
129. oldal - My Mother, Who ran to help me when I fell, And would some pretty story tell, Or kiss the place to make it well ? My Mother.

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