Our Cousin Veronica: Or, Scenes and Adventures Over the Blue Ridge

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Page 25 - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence...
Page 272 - And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth : and it was so.
Page 280 - If I did despise the cause of my man-servant or of my maid-servant when they contended with me ; what then shall I do when God riseth up? and when he visiteth, what shall I answer him? Did not he that made me in the womb, make him? and did not one fashion us in the womb?
Page 83 - To come and go with tidings from the heart, As it a running messenger had been.
Page 232 - When at a play to laugh, or cry, Yet cannot tell the reason why; Never to hold her tongue a minute, While all she prates has nothing in it ; Whole hours can with a coxcomb sit, And take his nonsense all for wit ; Her learning mounts to read a song, But half the words pronouncing wrong ; • Has every repartee in store She spoke ten thousand times before...
Page 98 - THERE is a change — and I am poor; Your Love hath been, nor long ago, A Fountain at my fond Heart's door, Whose only business was to flow; And flow it did; not taking heed Of its own bounty, or my need.
Page 142 - With clashing wheel, and lifting keel, And smoking torch on high, When winds are loud, and billows reel, She thunders foaming by ; When seas are silent and serene, With even beam she glides, The sunshine glimmering through the green That skirts her gleaming sides.
Page 380 - BE NOBLE ! and the nobleness that lies In other men, sleeping, but never dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine own...
Page 213 - With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod, And spread the furrow for the seed we sow ; This is the field and Acre of our God. This is the place, where human harvests grow ! TO THE RIVER CHARLES.
Page 157 - The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck. She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull.

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