Eliza Cook's Journal, Том 6

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J. O. Clark, 1852
 

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Стр. 126 - Let me have men about me that are fat ; Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights. Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; He thinks too much : such men are dangerous.
Стр. 83 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret...
Стр. 128 - For want of a nail, the shoe was lost, For want of a shoe, the horse was lost, For want of a horse, the rider was lost, For want of a rider, the battle was lost.
Стр. 327 - For, like strains of martial music, Their mighty thoughts suggest Life's endless toil and endeavor; And to-night I long for rest. Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start; Who, through long days of labor, And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer.
Стр. 83 - LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
Стр. 314 - By day its voice is low and light ; But in the silent dead of night, Distinct as a passing footstep's fall, It echoes along the vacant hall, Along the ceiling, along the floor, And seems to say at each chamber door, " Forever — never ! Never — forever...
Стр. 352 - Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently, — kindly. — Smooth and compose them; And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly! Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity.
Стр. 75 - Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last - far off - at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. So runs my dream: but what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.
Стр. 327 - Come, read to me some .poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts of day. Not from the grand old masters, Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of Time. For, like strains of martial music, Their mighty thoughts suggest Life's endless toil and endeavour ; And to-night I long for rest.
Стр. 36 - And they answered the angel of the Lord that stood among the myrtle trees, and said, 'We have walked to and fro through the earth, and, behold, all the earth sitteth still, and is at rest.

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