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Sivu 199 - IT is a place where poets crowned may feel the heart's decaying; It is a place where happy saints may weep amid their praying: Yet let the grief and humbleness as low as silence languish: Earth surely now may give her calm to whom she gave her anguish.
Sivu 200 - And now, what time ye all may read through dimming tears his story, How discord on the music fell and darkness on the glory, And how when, one by one, sweet sounds and wandering lights departed, He wore no less a loving face because so brokenhearted, He shall be strong to sanctify the poet's high vocation.
Sivu 268 - IF you should see a flock of pigeons in a field of corn ; and if (instead of each picking where and what it liked, taking just as much as it wanted, and no more) you should see ninety-nine of them gathering all they got, into a heap ; reserving nothing for themselves, but the chaff and the refuse ; keeping this heap for one, and that the weakest, perhaps worst...
Sivu 179 - is very dreary ; ' Our young feet,' they say, ' are very weak ! ' Few paces have we taken, yet are weary — Our grave-rest is very far to seek. Ask the aged why they weep, and not the children ; For the outside earth is cold ; And we young ones stand without, in our bewildering. And the graves are for the old.
Sivu 180 - we are weary, And we cannot run or leap; If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep.
Sivu 425 - The style of Bunyan is delightful to every reader, and invaluable as a study to every person who wishes to obtain a wide command over the English language. The vocabulary is the vocabulary of the common people. There is not an expression, if we except a few technical terms of theology, which would puzzle the rudest peasant.
Sivu 245 - ... of these degenerate days sweat merely to look at it. To sweeten the beverage a lump of sugar was laid beside each cup, and the company alternately nibbled and sipped with great decorum, until an improvement was introduced by a shrewd and economic...
Sivu 516 - Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch'd from, The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.
Sivu 125 - The Pythagorean scale of numbers was at once discovered to be perfect; but the poems of Homer we yet know not to transcend the common limits of human intelligence, but by remarking, that nation after nation, and century after century, has been able to do little more than transpose his incidents, new name his characters, and paraphrase his sentiments.