What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
1st stitch 9 chain ANTIMACASSAR arms beautiful Berlin wool black lace blue boil bonnet bosom braid bright Catherine Catherine Montour centre chain of last chain stitches cheek chemisette child colour commence crochet needle dark dear deep diamond double dress edge Edward Edward Clark escallop eyes face Fasten father feeling felt flounces flowers gentle girl gold green guipure hair half hand happy head heart Jane join Josh Wright knit Lady last round leaf leaves light lips look loop Manston Mary mind miss Mohawk mother muslin never night ornamented ounce oval pale passed placed plain Repeat ribbon rose ruche satin shade shawl side silk single skirt sleeves smile spirit star stem stood sweet taffetas Tahmeroo tears tell thought thread trimmed turned Varnham velvet voice Walter Butler wild wool young
Page 151 - And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress The bones of Desolation's nakedness Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread...
Page 97 - Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown. His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; It is an attribute to God himself, And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
Page 248 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress, (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers...
Page 99 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Page 147 - She moved upon this earth a shape of brightness, A power that from its objects scarcely drew One impulse of her being — in her lightness Most like some radiant cloud of morning dew Which wanders through the waste air's pathless blue To nourish some far desert ; she did seem, Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew, Like the bright shade of some immortal dream Which walks when tempest sleeps the wave of life's dark stream.
Page 10 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely, been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 151 - The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Page 309 - The maid first looked sad and then looked cross, Gave her foot a fling, and her head a toss ; " Say you so, indeed, You mean little weed ? You're shut up for spite, For the blue sky is bright, To more credulous people your warnings tell, I'll away to the fair ; — good day, Pimpernel.