Alain Tanger's Wife

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L.C. Page & Company, 1903 - 316 pages
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Page 187 - The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her — she will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.
Page 186 - For she sitteth at the door of her house, on a seat in the high places of the city, 15 To call passengers who go right on their ways: 16 Whoso is simple, let him turn in hither: and as for him that wanteth understanding, she saith to him, 17 Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant.
Page 255 - And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Page 51 - There was a Door to which I found no Key: There was a Veil past which I could not see: Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE There seemed— and then no more of THEE and ME. XXXIII Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried, Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide "Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?
Page 166 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me — who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet!
Page 76 - Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays: Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
Page 186 - Till an arrow strike through his liver ; As a bird hasteth to the snare, And knoweth not that it is for his life.
Page 41 - Seals of love, but seal'd in vain. Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow, Are of those that April wears. But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee.
Page 77 - Let us watch the straight, stiff English figure, note the beaky nose and jutting chin, read in the steadfast eyes the thoughts which furrow the high brow. The peace has come too soon, he is thinking. ' The fellow's thrown up the sponge too quick, God dn him for no gentleman ! . . . and now I'll never get the chance to lick him myself ! ' So growls the Duke, blind to the hurrying fate that is bringing on the ' sound of revelry by night,' the dawn of Quatre Bras, the set of Waterloo.
Page 98 - ... splendour of the sea. Give back the Babylon where I was born, The lips that gape give back, the hands that grope, And noise and blood and suffocating scorn An eddy of fierce faces — and a hope That 'mid those myriad heads one head find place, With brown hair curled like breakers of the sea, And two eyes set so strangely in the face That all things else are nothing suddenly.

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