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Page 147 - Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their ( emperor; Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, Delivering o'er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone.
Page 164 - Shut in from all the world without, We sat the clean-winged hearth about, Content to let the north-wind roar In baffled rage at pane and door, While the red logs before us beat The frost-line back with tropic heat; And ever, when a louder blast Shook beam and rafter as it passed, 1 66 The merrier up its roaring draught The great throat of the chimney laughed...
Page 117 - Who shames a scribbler? break one cobweb through, He spins the slight self-pleasing thread anew : Destroy his fib or sophistry, in vain ! The creature's at his dirty work again...
Page 375 - His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand ; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Page 164 - What matter how the night behaved? What matter how the north-wind raved? Blow high, blow low, not all its snow Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow.
Page 33 - I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a little newborn baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there; and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?
Page 431 - Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.
Page 34 - ... party. A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire, ragged bedclothes, a sick mother, wailing baby, and a group of pale, hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm. How the big eyes stared, and the blue lips smiled, as the girls went in! "Ach, mein Gott! it is good angels come to us!" cried the poor woman, crying for joy. "Funny angels in hoods and mittens," said Jo, and set them laughing.
Page 3 - I like to have our light shine out in the evening, for the road is dark and lonely just here, and the twinkle of our lamp is pleasant to people's eyes as they go by. We can do so little for our neighbors, I am glad to cheer the way for them. Now put these poor old shoes to dry, and go to bed, dearie; I'll come soon.
Page 412 - I could play with much more pleasure than if I had the thought of an unfinished task before my mind. I early formed the habit of doing everything in time, and it soon became easy to do so. It is to this I owe my prosper^." Let every one who reads this do likewise. COURTESIES. — How much does it cost you to say "I thank you" to your husband, your children, your domestics?