Sharps and Flats, Volume 1 (Google eBook)

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Scribner, 1900 - American literature
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Page 176 - When I say, My bed shall comfort me, My couch shall ease my complaint; Then thou scarest me with dreams, And terrifiest me through visions : So that my soul chooseth strangling, And death rather than my life.
Page 48 - Gatherwood had theirfamous intellectual wrestlingmatch. Garland is one of the apostles of realism. Mrs. Catherwood has chosen the better part: she loves the fanciful in fiction; she believes, with us, in fairy godmothers and valorous knights and beautiful princesses who have fallen victims to wicked old witches. Mr. Garland's heroes sweat and do not wear socks; his heroines eat cold huckleberry pie and are so unfeminine as not to call a cow
Page 201 - I gather them in — I gather them in. " I gather them in, and their final rest Is here, down here, in the earth's dark breast!
Page 50 - So we are glad to hear that there is a prospect of Mr. Garland's making his home here in Chicago, where the ramping prairie winds and the swooping lake breezes contribute to the development of the humane fancy. Verily there will be more joy in Chicago over the one Garland that repenteth than over ninetv-and-nine Catherwoods that need no repentance.
Page 126 - IT seems like a dream — that sweet wooing of old — Like a legend of fairies on pages of gold — Too soon the sweet story of loving was closed, Too rudely awakened the soul that reposed ; I kissed the white lips that lay under the pall, And crept back to you, lonely Bachelor Hall. Mine eyes have grown dim and my hair has turned white, But my heart beats as warmly and gayly to-night As in days that are gone and years that are fled — Though I fill up my flagon and drink to the dead; For over...
Page 76 - d marry hymn, The crewel bell may dancer neigh. Lo alter fee tin vein he side Ant holder office offal pane — A lasses mown touched knot terse sole — His grown was sever awl Lynn vane. " Owe, beam my bride, my deer, rye prey, And here mice size beef ore rye dye; Oak caste mean knot tin scorn neigh way — Yew are the apple love me nigh!
Page 27 - PARTING was over at last, and all the goodbys had been spoken. Up the long hillside road the white-tented wagon moved slowly, Bearing the mother and children, while onward before them the father Trudged with his gun on his arm, and the faithful house-dog beside him, Grave and sedate, as if knowing the sorrowful thoughts of his master.
Page 119 - Felicia," said her father upon her return, "did you give him the check?" "Yes, Father," answered the daughter. "What did he say?" asked Robson. "He didn't say anything," replied Miss Felicia, "but he shed tears.
Page 175 - When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone ? And I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.
Page 48 - Mrs. Catherwood's heroes— and they are the heroes we like — are aggressive, courtly, dashing, picturesque fellows, and her heroines are timid, stanch, beautiful women, and they, too, are our kind of people. Mr. Garland's in hoc signo is a dungfork or a butter-paddle; Mrs. Catherwood's is a lance or an embroidery-needle. Give us the lance and its companion every time. Having said this much, it is proper that we should add that we have for Mr. Garland personally the warmest affection, and we admire...

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