Half-hours with the best authors, selected by C. Knight (Google eBook)

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Page 236 - I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams ; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Page 581 - From seeming evil still educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progression.
Page 389 - The Sea The sea! the sea! the open sea! The blue, the fresh, the ever free! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth's wide regions round; It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; Or like a cradled creature lies.
Page 550 - CYRIACK, this three years day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope ; but still bear up and steer Right onward.
Page 352 - I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man void of understanding ; and, lo, it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken down.
Page 578 - With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling year : And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ; And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales.
Page 104 - MUMMY (AT BELZONI'S EXHIBITION) Horace Smith And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!) In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago. When the Memnonium was in all its glory, And time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous.
Page 349 - Such seemed this man, not all alive nor dead, Nor all asleep, in his extreme old age : His body was bent double, feet and head Coming together...
Page 453 - Rumour can ope the grave. Acquaintance I would have, but when "t depends Not on the number, but the choice, of friends. Books should, not business, entertain the light, And sleep, as undisturb'd as death, the night.
Page 558 - ST. AGNES' EVEó Ah, bitter chill it was ! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold...

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