On Parody (Google eBook)

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H. Holt, 1896 - Parodies - 280 pages
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Page 208 - Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each tomorrow Find us farther than today.
Page 211 - Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar, Which the same I would rise to explain. Ah Sin was his name; And I shall not deny, In regard to the same, What that name might imply; But his smile it was pensive and childlike, As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye.
Page 29 - Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo ; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be ? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair: If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve : If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go ; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be ? George Wither.
Page 257 - You are old, Father William," the young man said, "And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head Do you think, at your age, it is right?" "In my youth," Father William replied to his son, "I feared it might injure the brain; But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none, Why, I do it again and again.
Page 157 - Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two And sleeps again.
Page 208 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 27 - Or make pale my cheeks with care, 'Cause another's rosy are ? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be...
Page 41 - Or the nard in the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the bee ? O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she! From...
Page 28 - Cause I see a woman kind; Or a well disposed nature Joined with a lovely feature? Be she meeker, kinder, than Turtle-dove or pelican, If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be? Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love? Or her well-deservings known Make me quite forget mine own? Be she with that goodness blest Which may merit name of Best; If she be not such to me, What care I how good she be?
Page 209 - In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!

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