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arms arrival asked baby beautiful became become began believe better Brambleton Bruce called CHAPTER close Colonel companion Cottage Courtenay dark dear death died door Dorothy dressed drive dying eyes face falling father fear feel felt followed Fortescue gave girl give hand happy hear heard knew leaving light listened Little Brown Lady live look Manor Margaret Marjory Marjory's married month Mooney mother never night once passed past peace perhaps picture poor present pretty quickly reading Rectory remember rest Ring round seemed seen side silent sisters Smith sometimes soon spirit stars stay stood story suddenly talk tell things thought tired told Tommy took trouble trying usual voice walk wander watched waves weeks whole wife young
第 243 頁 - Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more; He, the young and strong, who cherished Noble longings for the strife, By the roadside fell and perished, Weary with the march of life!
第 237 頁 - WHEN I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me ; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain ; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain ; And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget.
第 234 頁 - Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy belU, across the snow : The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.
第 208 頁 - Unaffrighted by the silence round them, Undistracted by the sights they see, These demand not that the things without them Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. "And with joy the stars perform their shining, And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll; For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting All the fever of some differing soul. "Bounded by themselves, and uoregardful In what state God's other works may be, In their own tasks all their powers pouring, These attain the mighty life you see.
第 143 頁 - And when the stream of sound, Which overflowed the soul, had passed away A consciousness survived that it had left, Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory, images and gentle thoughts, Which cannot die, and will not be destroyed.
第 154 頁 - These are spots in your feasts of charity, when they feast with you, feeding themselves without fear: clouds they are without water, carried about of winds; trees whose fruit withereth, without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the roots; Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever.
第 235 頁 - Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more ; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring...
第 244 頁 - All our fears are laid aside, If we but remember only Such as these have lived and died.
第 152 頁 - She desired to see neither children nor friends nor servants, till she had made up her mind what she was going to do. As generally happened with her in the bad moments of life, the revelation of what threatened her had steeled and nerved her to a surprising degree. Her stately indoor dress had been exchanged for a short tweed gown, and, as she walked briskly along, her white hair framed in the drawn hood of black...
第 165 頁 - ... Wilmot attempted no reply, but thought that perhaps even the stern Master Aminabad might have allowed him a more natural welcome ; and, cursing- the gloomy fanaticism which could darken the natural affections of the heart, he turned to Lucy's more genial society. The library was a spacious apartment, quite separate from the rest of the house ; to which it was attached by a covered way. It had its own entrance to the garden, and was, indeed, once a distinct building ; being in old times the chapel...