The Re-echo Club (Google eBook)

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Franklin Bigelow Corporation, 1913 - 56 pages
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Page 2 - But hail thou Goddess, sage and holy, Hail divinest Melancholy, Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; Black, but such as in esteem Prince...
Page 28 - PETER, Peter, pumpkin eater, Had a wife and couldn't keep her; He put her in a pumpkin shell And there he kept her very well.
Page 18 - There was a young lady of Niger, Who smiled as she rode on a tiger, They returned from the ride, With the lady inside, And the smile on the face of the tiger.
Page 6 - Still is sitting still is sitting On that dusty bust of Dante just above my chamber door, And her horns have all the seeming Of a demon's that is screaming. And the arc-light o'er her streaming Casts her shadow on the floor. And my soul from out that pool of Purple shadow on the floor, Shall be lifted Nevermore! MR. H. LONGFELLOW: The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wing of night As ballast is wafted downward From an air-ship in its flight.
Page 1 - I NEVER saw a Purple Cow; I never Hope to See One; But I can Tell you, Anyhow, I'd rather See than Be One.
Page 20 - Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road, ' "* Which to discover we must travel too.
Page 9 - R. KIPLING: In the old ten-acre pasture, Lookin' eastward toward a tree, There's a Purple Cow a-settin' And I know she thinks of me. For the wind is in the gum-tree, And the hay is in the mow, And the cow-bells are a-calling
Page 12 - There was a little girl, who had a little curl. Right in the middle of her forehead. And when she was good, she was very, very good. And when she was bad she was horrid.
Page 15 - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
Page 20 - Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, Were't not a Shame - were't not a Shame for him In this clay carcase crippled to abide?

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