The Universal Anthology: A Collection of the Best Literature, Ancient, Mediæval and Modern, Volume 26

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Clarke Company, limited, 1899 - Literature
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Page 320 - Woodman, spare that tree ! Touch not a single bough ! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea — And wouldst thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties...
Page 235 - My native country, thee, land of the noble free, Thy name I love: I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills like that above.
Page 45 - There is always somewhere a weakest spot, — In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill, In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace, — lurking still, Find it somewhere you must and will, — Above or below, or within or without, — And that's the reason, beyond a doubt, A chaise breaks down, but doesn't wear out. But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, With an "I dew vum...
Page 234 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Page 222 - In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, To please the desert and the sluggish brook. The purple petals, fallen in the pool. Made the black water with their beauty gay; Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool, And court the flower that cheapens his array.
Page 119 - THE blessed damozel leaned out From the gold bar of Heaven ; Her eyes were deeper than the depth Of waters stilled at even ; She had three lilies in her hand, And the stars in her hair were seven.
Page 234 - Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming; Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming? And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Page 48 - But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh.
Page 226 - King! Long live our noble King! God save the King! Send him victorious, Happy and glorious, Long to reign over us! God save the King!
Page 122 - Into the fine cloth white like flame Weaving the golden thread, To fashion the birth-robes for them Who are just born, being dead. ' He shall fear, haply, and be dumb : Then...