A Library of American Literature...

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Page 56 - But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city.
Page 496 - The enemies of my lord the king, and all that rise against thee to do thee hurt, be as that young man is." "And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate and wept ; and as he went, thus he said, 0 my son Absalom ! my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had died for thee, 0 Absalom, my son, my son!
Page 33 - Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire. But lo ! he is nearing his heart's desire ; He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, With Sheridan only five miles away. The first that the general saw were the groups Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops. What was done ? what to do ? a glance told him both...
Page 40 - Bind me, ye woodbines, in your twines ; Curl me about, ye gadding vines ; And oh so close your circles lace, That I may never leave this place : But lest your fetters prove too weak, Ere I your silken bondage break, Do you, O brambles, chain me too, And, courteous briars, nail me through.
Page 336 - So, when the summer calleth, On forest and field of grain, With an equal murmur falleth The cooling drip of the rain; Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Wet with the rain, the Blue; Wet with the rain, the Gray.
Page 208 - From the Desert I come to thee On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire. Under thy window I stand, And the midnight hears my cry: I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!
Page 256 - em well; Says he, 'That's Banks; he's fond of shell. Lord, save his soul ! We'll give him — well, That's Stonewall Jackson's Way.
Page 208 - the soldiers cried, The outer trenches guarding, When the heated guns of the camps allied Grew weary of bombarding. The dark Redan, in silent scoff, Lay, grim and threatening, under; And the tawny mound of the Malakoff No longer belched its thunder. There was a pause. A guardsman said: " We storm the forts to-morrow ; Sing while we may, another day Will bring enough of sorrow.
Page 116 - Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow ! What cares he? he cannot know: Lay him low...
Page 443 - Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes. My beloved is mine, and I am his he feedeth among the lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

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