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Page 259 - A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight; a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: That was all! and yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
Page 261 - So through the night rode Paul Revere ; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm, — A cry of defiance and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo forevermore...
Page 280 - On which their neighbours lay such stress, To their fathers and mothers having risen Out of some subterraneous prison Into which they were trepanned Long time ago in a mighty band Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, But how or why, they don't understand.
Page 283 - He was perfumed like a milliner; And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose and took't away again ; Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff...
Page 325 - OUR fathers' God! from out whose hand The centuries fall like grains of sand, We meet to-day, united, free, And loyal to our land and Thee, To thank Thee for the era .done, And trust Thee for the opening one.
Page 278 - And horses were born with eagles' wings; And just as I became assured My lame foot would be speedily cured, The music stopped and I stood still, And found myself outside the hill, Left alone against my will, To go now limping as before, And never hear of that country more!
Page 300 - There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, And eyes the reflection of Heaven's own blue; He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, And the pale mist hid him from mortal view; We saw not the angels who met him there, The gates of the city we could not see; Over the river, over the river, My brother stands waiting to welcome me.
Page 274 - To Rat-land home his commentary: Which was: "At the first shrill notes of the pipe, I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, And putting apples, wondrous ripe, Into a cider press's gripe; And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks: And it seemed as if a voice (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery Is breathed) called out, 'Oh, rats, rejoice!
Page 287 - Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts ; Dash him to pieces ! Cas. I denied you not. Bru. You did. Cas. I did not : he was but a fool that brought My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: A friend should bear a friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.