James Mahoney, 1862-1915: Biographical Sketch, Letters of Appreciation, Literary Productions (Google eBook)

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Privately printed by the Rumford Press, 1920 - 343 pages
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Page 97 - ... concerns of ordinary life, A constant influence, a peculiar grace ; But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for human kind, Is happy as a Lover; and attired With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired; And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw...
Page 17 - The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Page 8 - Life ! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard. to part when friends are dear Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning.
Page 96 - Whose powers shed round him in the common strife, Or mild concerns of ordinary life, A constant influence, a peculiar grace; But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for human kind, 50 Is happy as a Lover; and attired With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired...
Page 69 - Let every soul be subject to higher powers : for there is no power but from God ; and those that are, are ordained of God.
Page 30 - What soul was his, when, from the naked top Of some bold headland, he beheld the sun Rise up, and bathe the world in light! He looked Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth And ocean's liquid mass, beneath him lay In gladness and deep joy. The clouds were touched, And in their silent faces did he read Unutterable love.
Page 154 - One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, Never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, Sleep to wake.
Page 17 - Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Page 169 - Speak, History! Who are Life's victors? Unroll thy long annals and say, Are they those whom the world called the victors, who won the success of a day? The martyrs, or Nero? The Spartans, who fell at Thermopylae's tryst, Or the Persians and Xerxes? His judges or Socrates, Pilate or Christ?
Page 30 - Sweet flower ! for by that name at last, When all my reveries are past, I call thee, and to that cleave fast, Sweet silent creature ! That breath'st with me in sun and air, Do thou, as thou art wont, repair My heart with gladness, and a share Of thy meek nature ! TO THE SAME FLOWER.

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