The Offering of Friendship; Or, Tales of the Five Senses

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J. Duffy, 1854 - Всего страниц: 243

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Стр. 12 - O loss of sight, of thee I most complain! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, Dungeon or beggary, or decrepit age! Light, the prime work of God, to me...
Стр. 13 - O first created beam, and thou great Word, " Let there be light," and light was over all ; Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree ? The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon When she deserts the night, Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. Since light so necessary is to life...
Стр. 13 - Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree ? The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night, Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. Since light so necessary is to life, And almost life itself, if it be true That light is in the soul, She all in every part ; why was the sight To such a tender ball as the eye confined, So obvious and so easy to be quench'd?
Стр. 105 - And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other's aspects— saw, and shriek'd, and died— Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was upon whose brow Famine had written Fiend.
Стр. 13 - Within doors, or without, still as a fool, In power of others, never in my own ; Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.
Стр. 36 - ... from each to each, and perusing their faces and persons as if she would never drink deep enough of the cup of rapture which her recovered sense afforded her. The beauty of the young mother — the fresh and rosy colour of the children — the glossy brightness of their hair — their smiles — their movements of joy — all afforded subjects for delight and admiration, such as she might never have experienced had she never considered them in the light of blessings lost for life. The surgeon,...
Стр. 22 - The stranger who wanders along the terrific masses of crag that overhang the green and foaming waters of the Atlantic on the western coasts of Ireland feels a melancholy interest excited in his mind as he turns aside from the more impressive grandeurs of the scene, and gazes on the small stone heaps that are scattered over the moss on which he treads. They are the graves of the nameless few whose bodies have been from time to time ejected from the bosom of the ocean, and cast upon those lonely crags...
Стр. 27 - ... faith, that they cannot be moved to a momentary forgetfulness of duty, by a sudden and startling occasion. After the widow had heard the letter read, in which her son announced his approaching return, the quiet of her life was for a time disturbed. She thought of heaven, indeed, and prayed even more fervently than before; but the burning fever that possessed her heart showed that its confidence was qualified. In the hours of devotion she often found her thoughts wandering, from that Being whose...
Стр. 23 - ... ocean, as it dealt the last stroke upon the groaning timbers of the wreck, and scattered the whole pile far and wide, in countless atoms, upon the boiling surface of the deep. And, again, without turning in thought to the far-away homes, at which the tale of the wanderers was never...
Стр. 35 - The first upon which her eyes reposed was the figure of a young man bending his gaze with an intense and ecstatic fondness upon hers, and with his arms outstretched as if to anticipate the recognition. The face, though changed and sunned since she had known it, was still familiar to her. She started from her seat with a wild cry of joy, and cast herself upon the bosom of her son. \ She embraced him repeatedly, then removed him to a distance, that she might have the opportunity of viewing him with...

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