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anecdote appearance asked beautiful better body bright bring called church close cold course curiosity dear death Doctor dollars door dying exclaimed eyes face fall father feel give gone green hand head hear heard heart hour John keep kind KNICK leave length light lines live look matter mind morning mother nature never night observed once original pain passed perhaps person picture play pleasant poor present reader remark remember replied rest rise round scene seemed seen side sitting soon sound speaking spirit stand story taken tears tell thing thought thousand tion took town traveller trees turned village voice walked wind write Yankee young
Page 89 - Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image.
Page 123 - I'll tell you, friend! a wise man and a fool. You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow, The rest is all but leather or prunella.
Page 48 - BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.
Page 77 - I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil : and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, — As he is very potent with such spirits, — Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: — the play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Page 164 - SEAWEED WHEN descends on the Atlantic The gigantic Storm-wind of the equinox. Landward in his wrath he scourges The toiling surges, Laden with seaweed from the rocks : From Bermuda's reefs ; from edges Of sunken ledges, In some far-off, bright Azore ; From Bahama, and the dashing, Silver-flashing Surges of San Salvador...
Page 40 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 229 - Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee ! Let the water and the blood, From Thy riven side which flowed, Be of sin the double cure, Cleanse me from its guilt and power.
Page 48 - And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But, O, for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.