Guarding the Mails: Or, The Secret Service of the Post Office Department

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Dustin, Gilman, & Company, 1876 - 568 oldal
 

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197. oldal - And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold : And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald. And through the drifts the snowy clifts Did send a dismal sheen : Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken — The ice was all between. The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around : It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, Like noises in a swound...
38. oldal - Like one that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round, walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
171. oldal - His praise due paid; for swinish gluttony Ne'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast, But with besotted base ingratitude Crams, and blasphemes his Feeder.
520. oldal - Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
354. oldal - Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
79. oldal - Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
423. oldal - tis strange : And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths : Win -us with honest trifles, to betray us In deepest consequence.
500. oldal - Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.
511. oldal - I have voluntarily given no aid, countenance, counsel or encouragement to persons engaged in...
555. oldal - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well : For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored and unsung.

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