Progressive Exercises in English Composition

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R.S. Davis, 1840 - English language - 108 pages
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Page 31 - Live while you live, the Epicure would say, And seize the pleasures of the present day. Live while you live, the sacred Preacher cries, And give to God each moment as it flies.
Page 55 - Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares, To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood And view the haunts of Nature. The calm shade Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm To thy sick heart.
Page 31 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Page 32 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.
Page 31 - Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words, health, peace, and competence.
Page 11 - I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life; and passing from one thought to another, Surely, said I, man is but a shadow and life a dream.
Page 49 - To soar. Hail to the morn, when first they stood On Bunker's height, And, fearless, stemmed the invading flood, And wrote our dearest rights in blood, And mowed in ranks the Hireling brood, In desperate fight!
Page 61 - It is not fit that the land of the Pilgrims should bear the shame longer. I hear the sound of the hammer, I see the smoke of the furnaces where manacles and fetters are still forged for human limbs. I see the visages of those, who by stealth, and at midnight, labor in this work of hell, foul and dark, as may become the artificers of such instruments of misery and torture.
Page 55 - Yet, fair as thou art, thou shunnest to glide, Beautiful stream! by the village side; But windest away from haunts of men, To quiet valley and shaded glen ; And forest, and meadow, and slope of hill, Around thee, are lonely, lovely, and still.
Page 58 - Strikes thro' their wounded hearts the sudden dread; But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close ; where past the shaft, no trace is found. As from the wing no scar the sky retains ; The parted wave no furrow from the keel ; So dies in human hearts the thought of death.

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