The Land of Contrasts: A Briton's View of His American Kin

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Page 147 - Landlords' turn the drunken Bee Out of the Foxglove's door When Butterflies - renounce their 'drams' I shall but drink the more! Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats And Saints - to windows run To see the little...
Page 147 - I'M NOBODY! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there's a pair of us — don't tell! They'd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog!
Page 76 - O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us ! It wad frae monie a blunder free us And foolish notion : What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, And ev'n Devotion ! ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH.
Page 149 - The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth, — The sweeping up the heart, And putting love away We shall not want to use again Until eternity.
Page 148 - I'LL tell you how the sun rose, — A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, " That must have been the sun ! " But how he set, I know not. There seemed a purple stile Which little yellow boys and girls Were climbing all the while Till when they reached the other side, A dominie in gray Put gently up the evening bars, And led the flock away.
Page 148 - I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I, And debauchee of dew, Reeling, through endless summer days, From inns of molten blue. When landlords turn the drunken bee Out of the foxglove's door, When butterflies renounce their drams, I shall but drink the more!
Page 142 - I was not asked if I should like to come, I have not seen my host here since I came, Or had a word of welcome in his name. Some say that we shall never see him, and some That we shall see him elsewhere, and then know Why we were bid. How long I am to stay I have not the least notion. None, they say, Was ever told when he should come or go. But every now and then there bursts upon The song and mirth a lamentable noise, A sound of shrieks and sobs, that strikes our joys Dumb in our breasts; and then,...
Page 148 - Breadth" till it argued him narrow The Broad are too broad to define And of "Truth...
Page 31 - So comparing them with the people of Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Spain, one discovers more varieties between individuals in these European peoples than one finds in America. Scotchmen and Irishmen are more unlike Englishmen, the native of Normandy more unlike the native of Provence, the Pomeranian more unlike the Wurtemberger, the Piedmontese more unlike the Neapolitan, the Basque more unlike the Andalusian, than the American from any part of the country is to the American from any other.
Page 10 - Americans invented the slang word 'kicker,' but so far as I could see, their vocabulary is here miles ahead of their practice; they dream noble deeds, but do not do them; Englishmen 'kick' much better without having a name for it.

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