The Wheat-sheaf; Or, Gleanings for the Wayside and Fireside ...W.P. Hazard, 1853 - Всего страниц: 416 |
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Стр. 42
... living soul . Such seems to be the true reading of the wondrous inscription chiseled deep in the rocks . It furnishes us with no clue by which to unravel the unapproachable mysteries of creation ; these mys- teries belong to the ...
... living soul . Such seems to be the true reading of the wondrous inscription chiseled deep in the rocks . It furnishes us with no clue by which to unravel the unapproachable mysteries of creation ; these mys- teries belong to the ...
Стр. 70
... living and dead , A stranger to doubting A stranger to dread ; - A Handmaid of Heaven , By charity sent , - Scattering blessings , Wherever she went . The feelings of woman , The courage of man , Gave love and decision To every plan ...
... living and dead , A stranger to doubting A stranger to dread ; - A Handmaid of Heaven , By charity sent , - Scattering blessings , Wherever she went . The feelings of woman , The courage of man , Gave love and decision To every plan ...
Стр. 77
... living in lodgings in Stoke Newington , he experienced a very severe attack of illness , his life being almost despaired of . During the whole period of his sickness , his landlady , with the natural instinct of a woman's heart , tended ...
... living in lodgings in Stoke Newington , he experienced a very severe attack of illness , his life being almost despaired of . During the whole period of his sickness , his landlady , with the natural instinct of a woman's heart , tended ...
Стр. 88
... living deluge rolled , By Poland's dying groan foretold : One rising sun - one bloody setting shone , And dust and ashes were on Frederick's throne ' NAPOLEON'S TELEGRAPH ON MONT - MARtre . Talk of the NAPOLEON'S TELEGRAPH ON MONT-MARTRE,
... living deluge rolled , By Poland's dying groan foretold : One rising sun - one bloody setting shone , And dust and ashes were on Frederick's throne ' NAPOLEON'S TELEGRAPH ON MONT - MARtre . Talk of the NAPOLEON'S TELEGRAPH ON MONT-MARTRE,
Стр. 102
... living God who made me ! —I would sooner in your bay Sink ship and crew and cargo than bear this child away ! " " Well answered , worthy captain , shame on their cruel laws ! " Ran through the crowd in murmurs loud the people's just ...
... living God who made me ! —I would sooner in your bay Sink ship and crew and cargo than bear this child away ! " " Well answered , worthy captain , shame on their cruel laws ! " Ran through the crowd in murmurs loud the people's just ...
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The Wheat-Sheaf, Or Gleanings for the Wayside and Fireside (Classic Reprint) Недоступно для просмотра - 2016 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
ages angel appeared bear beauty beneath blessed bright bring brow called child Christ Christian cloud dark dead dear death deep divine dreams earth Ellwood eternal evil fair faith fall father fear feel feet fell felt flowers give glory grave green hand hath head hear heart Heaven holy hope hour human kind labour leave less light living look Lord meet mind mountains nature never night o'er object once passed peace poor prayer present principles prison Quaker reach rest rise round says seemed seen shadow sight silent soul sound spirit stand star strong sweet thee thine things thou thought true truth turned voice waters waves weak weary whole young
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Стр. 276 - For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.
Стр. 157 - O men with Sisters dear ! O men with Mothers and Wives! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives! Stitch - stitch - stitch, In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt.
Стр. 158 - Oh but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet, — With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet! For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal!
Стр. 196 - To him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Стр. 172 - Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form ! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge ! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity ! 0 dread and silent mount ! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in...
Стр. 372 - THE snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
Стр. 277 - Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth...
Стр. 197 - The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom — Take the wings Of morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings...
Стр. 198 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Стр. 158 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread : Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this