Peter's Wife: A Novel

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J.B. Lippincott Company, 1895 - 360 pages
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Page 306 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone ; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone...
Page 160 - Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go On the light fantastic toe...
Page 141 - Give not thy tongue too great a liberty, lest it take thee prisoner. A word unspoken is, like the sword in the scabbard, thine ; if vented, thy sword is in another's hand. If thou desire to be held wise, be so wise as to hold thy tongue.
Page 6 - Reade all at my ease, both of the Newe and Olde ; For a jollie goode Booke whereon to looke, is better to me than Golde.
Page 123 - He does not love me for my birth, Nor for my lands so broad and fair; He loves me for my own true...
Page 166 - I did ; and going did a rainbow note : Surely, thought I, This is the lace of Peace's coat : I will search out the matter. But while I looked, the clouds immediately Did break and scatter.
Page 225 - WHEN first we met we did not guess That Love would prove so hard a master ; Of more than common friendliness When first we met we did not guess. Who could foretell this sore distress, This irretrievable disaster When first we met ?—We did not guess That Love would prove so hard a master.
Page 336 - ... half resigning ere he go, Doth to his heiress shew His kingdom fair. In patient russet is his forest spread, All bright with bramble red, With beechen moss And holly sheen : the oak silver and stark Sunneth his aged bark And wrinkled boss. But neath the ruin of the withered brake Primroses now awake From nursing shades : The crumpled carpet of the dry leaves brown Avails not to keep down The hyacinth blades. The hazel hath put forth his tassels ruffed ; The willow's flossy tuft Hath slipped him...
Page 90 - I would do what I pleased ; and doing what I pleased, I should have my will ; and having my will, I should be contented ; and when one is contented, there is no more to be desired ; and when there is no more to be , desired, there's an end of it ; and let the estate come, and God be with ye ; and let us see it, as one blind man said to another.
Page 32 - THE hill pines were sighing, O'ercast and chill was the day : A mist in the valley lying Blotted the pleasant May. But deep in the glen's bosom Summer slept in the fire Of the odorous gorse-blossom And the hot scent of the brier. A ribald cuckoo clamoured, And out of the copse the stroke Of the iron axe that hammered The iron heart of the oak. Anon a sound appalling, As a hundred years of pride Crashed, in the silence falling: And the shadowy pine-trees sighed.

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