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Стр. 97 - The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Стр. 23 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished! Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes. With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
Стр. 232 - Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death we will fear no evil, for Thou art with us: Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort us.
Стр. 138 - And still to love, though prest with ill, In wintry age to feel no chill, With me is to be lovely still, My Mary! But ah! by constant heed I know How oft the sadness that I show Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe, My Mary! And should my future lot be cast With much resemblance of the past, Thy worn-out heart will break at last — My Mary!
Стр. 233 - No where by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever. But here will sigh thine alder tree, And here thine aspen shiver ; And here by thee will hum the bee. For ever and for ever. A thousand suns will stream on thee, A thousand moons will quiver ; But not by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever.
Стр. 295 - Two are better than one ; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.
Стр. 288 - ... trouble, fear and pain And anguish, all are shadows vain, That death itself shall not remain ; That weary deserts we may tread, A dreary labyrinth may thread, Through dark ways underground be led ; Yet if we will one Guide obey, The dreariest path, the darkest way Shall issue out in heavenly day.
Стр. 71 - Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair : I hear her in the tunefu...
Стр. 197 - There's been rowing enough to-night," he said in a low voice ; " a body canna speak wi' him i' th' road. I'll come back for 't when he's flitted." In a few minutes the horsedealer got up and went out to fetch his horse, saying, " The cob will ha' hard work to get to Hawkesley ; 'twill be an awful night for man and beast.