The Professor at the Breakfast-table: With the Story of Iris

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Ticknor and Fields, 1860 - Всего страниц: 410

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Стр. 301 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...
Стр. 62 - s to our boyhood, its gold and its gray! The stars of its winter, the dews of its May! And, when we have done with our life-lasting toys, Dear Father, take care of thy children, THE BOYS.
Стр. 338 - Chartier has lasted four hundred years, and put it into the head of many an ill-favored poet, whether Victoria, or Eugenie, would do as much by him, if she happened to pass him when he was asleep. And have we ever forgotten that the fresh cheek of the young John Milton tingled under the lips of some high-born Italian beauty, who, I believe, did not think to leave her card by the side of the slumbering youth, but has bequeathed the memory of her pretty deed to all coming time ? The sound of a kiss...
Стр. 402 - Sun of our life, Thy quickening ray Sheds on our path the glow of day; Star of our hope, Thy softened light Cheers the long watches of the night.
Стр. 309 - Audacious ; but, that seat soon failing, meets A vast vacuity : all unawares, Fluttering his pennons vain, plumb down he drops Ten thousand fathom deep...
Стр. 61 - Speaker" — the one on the right; "Mr. Mayor," my young one, how are you to-night? That's our "Member of congress" we say when we chaff; There's the Reverend. What's his name? — don't make me laugh. That boy with the grave mathematical look Made believe he had written a wonderful book, And the ROYAL SOCIETY thought it was true! So they chose him right in; a good joke it was, too! There's a boy we pretend, with a three-decker brain, That could harness a team with a logical chain; When he spoke...
Стр. 60 - HAS there any old fellow got mixed with the boys? If there has, take him out, without making a noise ! Hang the Almanao's cheat and the Catalogue's spite ! Old Time is a liar! We're twenty to-night! We're twenty ! We're twenty! Who says we are more ? He's tipsy, — young jackanapes ! — show h,m the door! — "Gray temples at twenty?
Стр. 192 - THE TWO STREAMS. Behold the rooky wall That down its sloping sides Pours the swift rain-drops, blending, as they fall, In rushing river-tides ! Yon stream, whose sources run Turned by a pebble's edge, Is Athabasca, rolling toward the sun Through the cleft mountain-ledge. The slender rill had strayed, But for the slanting stone, To evening's ocean, with the tangled braid Of foam-flecked Oregon.
Стр. 90 - We must have a weak spot or two in a character before we can love it much. People that do not laugh or cry, or take more of anything than is good for them, or use anything but dictionary words, are admirable subjects for biographies. But we don't always care most for those flat-pattern flowers that press best in the herbarium.
Стр. 5 - There is then creative reading as well as creative writing. When the mind is braced by labor and invention, the page of whatever book we read becomes luminous with manifold allusion. Every sentence is doubly significant, and the sense of our author is as broad as the world.

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