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Page 4
... wandering fancy or the wayward heart ; Who match the little only with the less , And gaze in rapture at its slight excess , Proud of a pebble , as the brightest gem Whose light might crown an emperor's diadem . And , most of all , the ...
... wandering fancy or the wayward heart ; Who match the little only with the less , And gaze in rapture at its slight excess , Proud of a pebble , as the brightest gem Whose light might crown an emperor's diadem . And , most of all , the ...
Page 9
Oliver Wendell Holmes. As from the cradle of its birth we trace , Slow wandering forth , the patriarchal race . I. When the green earth , beneath the zephyr's wing , Wears on her breast the varnished buds of Spring ; When the loosed ...
Oliver Wendell Holmes. As from the cradle of its birth we trace , Slow wandering forth , the patriarchal race . I. When the green earth , beneath the zephyr's wing , Wears on her breast the varnished buds of Spring ; When the loosed ...
Page 33
... wandering o'er the waves , I looked to meet , but only found their graves ; If friendship's smile , the better part of fame , Should lend my song the only wreath I claim , Whose voice would greet me with a sweeter tone , Whose living ...
... wandering o'er the waves , I looked to meet , but only found their graves ; If friendship's smile , the better part of fame , Should lend my song the only wreath I claim , Whose voice would greet me with a sweeter tone , Whose living ...
Page 76
... wandering eye recall The mountain - current's icy wave , Or for the dead one tear let fall , - Whose founts are broken by their grave ? From stone to stone the ivy weaves Her braided tracery's winding veil , And lacing stalks and ...
... wandering eye recall The mountain - current's icy wave , Or for the dead one tear let fall , - Whose founts are broken by their grave ? From stone to stone the ivy weaves Her braided tracery's winding veil , And lacing stalks and ...
Page 185
... wandering dove , Thy weary heart may faint for rest , As mine , on changeless love ; And , while these sculptured lines retrace The hours now dancing by , This vision of thy girlish grace May cost thee , too , a sigh , LEXINGTON ...
... wandering dove , Thy weary heart may faint for rest , As mine , on changeless love ; And , while these sculptured lines retrace The hours now dancing by , This vision of thy girlish grace May cost thee , too , a sigh , LEXINGTON ...
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ancient arms beam beneath biped blaze blue breast breath bright brow burning cheek cherubs child clouds Copp's Hill curls dark dead dear dream dust earth faded fair faithless flame floating flowers fold friends fustian gale girls glance gleam glow golden grave green hand hear heart Heaven hills hour Iliad Katydid kerchief leaf leaves lift light lips living look lyre maid Marseilles memory Mont Blanc morning Muse naiad o'er once pale pennon percussion cap poet poet's Puritan restless heart ring roll rose round sachem shade shadows shalt shore side sigh silent skies smile song soul spectre star stethoscope stream sweet swell tears tell thee thine thou thought thrill tide toil tone tread trembling voice wandered warm wave weep wild winds wine wings Yankee girls young
Popular passages
Page 22 - AY, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky ; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar ; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more ! Her deck, once red with heroes...
Page 85 - THE LAST LEAF I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found 10 By the Crier on his round Through the town.
Page 269 - And all his sturdy men-at-arms were ranged about the board. He poured the fiery Hollands in, — the man that never feared, — He took a long and solemn draught, and wiped his yellow beard; And one by one the musketeers — the men that fought and prayed — All drank as 'twere their mother's milk, and not a man afraid.
Page 145 - Then up arose the oysterman, and to himself said he, "I guess I'll leave the skiff at home, for fear that folks should see: I read it in the story-book, that, for to kiss his dear, Leander swam the Hellespont, — and I will swim this here.
Page 23 - Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee;— The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!
Page 269 - T was filled with caudle spiced and hot and handed smoking round. " But, changing hands, it reached at length a Puritan divine, Who used to follow Timothy, and take a little wine, But hated punch and prelacy ; and so it was, perhaps, He went to Leyden, where he found conventicles and schnaps.
Page 87 - My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago— That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At...
Page 273 - ... a young man in Boston town, He bought him a stethoscope nice and new, All mounted and finished and polished down, With an ivory cap and a stopper too. It happened a spider within did crawl, And spun him a web of ample size, Wherein there chanced one day to fall A couple of very imprudent flies. The first was a bottle-fly, big and blue, The second was smaller, and thin and long ; So there was a concert between the two, Like an octave flute and a tavern gong.
Page 129 - It is a joy to straighten out one's limbs, And leap elastic from the level counter, Leaving the petty grievances of earth, The breaking thread, the din of clashing shears, And all the needles that do wound the spirit, For such a pensive hour of soothing silence.
Page 187 - Hark ! the death-volley around them is ringing— Look ! with their life-blood the young grass is wet. Faint is the feeble breath, Murmuring low in death— " Tell to our sons how their fathers have died ;