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Page 12 - God pity them both ! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these :
Page 2 - And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap — When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Page 10 - Try not the Pass!" the old man said; "Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied Excelsior! "O stay," the maiden said, "and rest Thy weary head upon this breast!
Page 14 - We know the forest round us, As seamen know the sea. We know its walls of thorny vines, Its glades of reedy grass, Its safe and silent islands Within the dark morass.
Page 14 - We tulk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout. As if a hunt were up, And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier's cup. With merry songs we mock the wind That in the pine-top grieves, And slumber long and sweetly On beds of oaken leaves.
Page 14 - Woe to the English soldiery That little dread us near! On them shall light at midnight A strange and sudden fear ; When, waking to their tents on fire, They grasp their arms in vain, And they who stand to face us Are beat to earth again...
Page 15 - Tis life to feel the night-wind That lifts his tossing mane. A moment in the British camp — A moment — and away Back to the pathless forest, Before the peep of day. Grave men there are by broad Santee, Grave men with hoary hairs ; Their hearts are all with Marion, For Marion are their prayers. And lovely ladies greet our band With kindliest welcoming, With smiles like those of summer, And tears like those of spring. For them we wear these trusty arms, And lay them down no more Till we have driven...
Page 10 - THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior...
Page 7 - Miles Standish took the bowl, and filled it to the brim ; The little Captain stood and stirred the posset with his sword, And all his sturdy men-at-arms were ranged about the board. He poured the fiery Hollands in, — the man that never feared, — He took a long and solemn draught, and wiped his yellow beard ; And one by one the musketeers — the men that fought and prayed — All drank as 't were their mother's milk, and not a man afraid.