The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes in Three Volumes, Volume 2

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1891
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Page 106 - I hear a voice that sings ;Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll ! Leave thy low- vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
Page 131 - So the Deacon inquired of the village folk Where he could find the strongest oak, That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke — That was for spokes and floor and sills; He sent for lancewood to make the thills; The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees; The panels of whitewood, that cuts like cheese, But lasts like iron for things like these; The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum...
Page 132 - Little of all we value here Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year Without both feeling and looking queer. In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, So far as I know, but a tree and truth. This is a moral that runs at large; (Take it.
Page 130 - I'll tell you what happened without delay, Scaring the parson into fits, Frightening people out of their wits, — Have you ever heard of that, I say ? Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
Page 143 - Sun of our life, thy quickening ray Sheds on our path the glow of day; Star of our hope, thy softened light Cheers the long watches of the night. Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn ; Our noontide is thy gracious dawn ; Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign ; All, save the clouds of sin, are thine!
Page 233 - One mingling flood of braided light, — The red that fires the Southern rose, With spotless white from Northern snows, And spangled o'er its azure, see The sister stars of Liberty...
Page 17 - HAS there any old fellow got mixed with the boys ? If there has, take him out, without making a noise. Hang the Almanac's cheat and the Catalogue's spite ! Old time is a liar ! We're twenty to-night ! We're twenty ! We're twenty ! Who says we are more ? He's tipsy, — young jackanapes ! — show him the door !
Page 18 - And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith : Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith; But he shouted a song for the brave and the free — Just read on his medal, "My country," "of thee !
Page 133 - What do you think the parson found, When he got up and stared around ? The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, As if it had been to the mill and ground...
Page 9 - I'd rather laugh a bright-haired boy Than reign a gray-beard king! Off with the wrinkled spoils of age ! Away with learning's crown ! Tear out life's wisdom-written page, And dash its trophies down ! One moment let my life-blood stream From boyhood's fount of flame ! Give me one giddy, reeling dream Of life all love and fame...

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