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Aaron Burr angel arms art thou beauty bells blood Bob-o'-link bosom brave breath Bregenz brow Brutus Caesar Carthage Catiline chee cloud cried dare dark dead death deed deep Don Camillo door doth dream earth evermore eyes face father forever glory grave hand hath head hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre honor hour Jim Doyle John Anderson John Burns king laborers Lady land liberty light lips live look lord Macb mother ne'er Neph never night noble o'er once Paul Revere peace Pompey poor pray Queen river roar Rome rose round Scrooge Shakespeare shore shout silent sleep smile song soul speak Spink spirit stand steed stood sweet sweet Afton tact talent tears tell thee thou thought Twas uppe Vere voice wave wild wind word
Page 302 - I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Page 245 - FOURSCORE and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.
Page 276 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted...
Page 89 - His house was known to all the vagrant train ; He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain...
Page 299 - Like the poor cat i' the adage? Macb. Prithee, peace I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none. Lady M. What beast was't then That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man.
Page 160 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Page vii - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays : Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers And, grasping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
Page 60 - I CHATTER over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow. I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever. I WIND about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling...
Page 61 - TO him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.