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15 September 17 March 19 April 27 February 29 June 29 November afterward included afterward reprinted American author American clergyman American journalist American poet American statesman Atlantic Monthly August Autograph copy born in Boston born in London Century Charles Charles Sumner collection concerning Conn Dear Sir death December died in London edition editor English author English poet engraved by H. B. essay February Francis French friends George Gluck H. B. Hall H. W. Smith Hamilton handwriting Harper's Magazine Henry hope interesting James January John July June letter was written lished March Mass Miss nameless Nathaniel Parker Willis November October Original manuscript painting Paris Personal letter photograph place or date poem first published Portrait President printed September signature Signed manuscript song sonnet Southey stanzas steel-engraving Sumner Theodore Tilton Thomas tion Tribune volume 9 William wish wood-engraving write York City York Tribune
Page 11 - CLOSE his eyes; his work is done! What to him is friend or foeman, Rise of moon, or set of sun, Hand of man, or kiss of woman? Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! What cares he? he cannot know: Lay him low!
Page 129 - IF this great world of joy and pain Revolve in one sure track ; If freedom, set, will rise again, And virtue, flown, come back ; Woe to the purblind crew who fill The heart with each day's care; Nor gain, from past or future, skill To bear, and to forbear ! 1833.
Page 100 - His Soul fared forth (as from the deep home-grove The father-songster plies the hour-long quest,) To feed his soul-brood hungering in the nest ; But his warm Heart, the mother-bird, above Their callow fledgling progeny still hove With tented roof of wings and fostering breast Till the Soul fed the soul-brood. Richly blest From Heaven their growth, whose food was Human Love.
Page 69 - To Mrs. Reynolds's Cat Cat! who hast pass'd thy grand climacteric, How many mice and rats hast in thy days Destroy 'd? — How many tit bits stolen? Gaze With those bright languid segments green, and prick Those velvet ears — but pr'ythee do not stick Thy latent talons in me — and upraise Thy gentle mew — and tell me all thy frays Offish and mice, and rats and tender chick.
Page 83 - In the language of holy writ there is a time for all things, a time to preach and a time to pray, but those times have passed away. There is also a time to fight, and that time has now come.
Page 100 - To feed his soul-brood hungering in the nest; But his warm Heart, the mother-bird, above Their callow fledgling progeny still hove With tented roof of wings and fostering breast Till the Soul fed the soul-brood. Richly blest From Heaven their growth, whose food was Human Love. Yet ah! Like desert pools that show the stars Once in long leagues, — even such the scarce-snatched hours Which deepening pain left to his lordliest powers : — Heaven lost through spider-trammelled prison-bars.
Page 72 - I now submit to your enquiries the above Theological Propositions, to be by you defended, or oppugned, or both, in the Schools of Germany, whither I am told you are departing, to the utter dissatisfaction of your native Devonshire and regret of universal England; but to my own individual consolation if thro...
Page 91 - Who tears up words like trees by the roots, A Theseus in stout cow-hide boots, The wager of eternal war Against that loathsome Minotaur To whom we sacrifice each year The best blood of our Athens here, (Dear M ., pray brush np your Lempriere.) A terrible denouncer he, Old Sinai burns unquenchably Upon his lips; he well might be a Hot-blazing soul from fierce Judea, Habakkuk, Ezra, or Hosea.
Page 45 - As the moon's soft splendour O'er the faint cold starlight of heaven Is thrown, So your voice most tender To the strings without soul had then given Its own. The stars will awaken, Though the moon sleep a full hour later, To-night ; No leaf will be shaken Whilst the dews of your melody scatter Delight. Though the sound overpowers. Sing again, with your dear voice revealing A tone Of some world far from ours Where music and moonlight and feeling Are one.
Page 68 - Harvey's discovery of the circulation of the blood was a beautiful addition to our knowledge of the ancient economy ; but on a review of the practice of medicine before and since that epoch, I do not see any great amelioration which has been derived from that discovery.