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Page 268 - In this pleasing contrite wood-life, which God allows me, let me record day by day my honest thought without prospect or retrospect, and, I cannot doubt, it will be found symmetrical, though I mean it not and see it not. My book should smell of pines and resound with the hum of insects.
Page 48 - Curse not the king, no not in thy thought; and curse not the rich in thy bedchamber: for a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter.
Page 237 - gainst the streams To taste the luxury of sunny beams Tempered with coolness. How they ever wrestle With their own sweet delight and ever nestle Their silver bellies on the pebbly sand ! If you but scantily hold out the hand, That very instant not one will remain ; But turn your eye, and they are there again.
Page 208 - I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot : I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth.
Page v - Sweet, at the folding-up of day, to be Where, on the tattered fringes of the land, The uncourted flowers of the penurious sand Are pale against the pale lips of the sea. Sweetest to dream, on easeful earth reclined, Far in some forest's ancient idleness, Under the shadow of its bossy boles; Beyond the world's pursuit and Care's access ; And hear the wild feet of the elfin wind Dancing and prancing in mad caprioles.
Page 228 - He trode the unplanted forest floor, whereon The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone; Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear, And up the tall mast runs the woodpecker. He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, The slight...
Page 198 - Lives of great men all remind us We may make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, may take heart again.
Page 54 - May Day can be as commonplace a date as any other of the series making the round year. We make much of many a holiday of our own appointment, and practically nothing of this one, set apart by Nature herself as a time to rejoice.