The History of Sudbury, Massachusetts. 1638-1889

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R. H. Blodgett, 1889 - Sudbury (Mass.) - 660 pages
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Page 557 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Page 82 - He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.
Page 85 - I, AB, being by God's providence an inhabitant and freeman within the jurisdiction of this commonwealth, do freely acknowledge myself to be subject to the government thereof, and therefore do here swear, by the great and dreadful name of the ever-living God, that I will be true and faithful to the same...
Page 588 - Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn.
Page 351 - Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers, — Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands, Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven ? Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers...
Page 594 - As ancient is this hostelry As any in the land may be, Built in the old Colonial day, When men lived in a grander way, With ampler hospitality...
Page 612 - Tis not for man to trifle ! Life is brief, And sin is here. Our age is but the falling of a leaf, A dropping tear. We have no time to sport away the hours, All must be earnest in a world like ours. Not many lives, but only one have we,— One, only one ; — How sacred should that one life ever be — That narrow span ! — Day after day filled up with blessed toil, Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil.
Page 151 - THE SETTLER. His echoing axe the settler swung Amid the sea-like solitude, And, rushing, thundering, down were flung The Titans of the wood ; Loud shrieked the eagle, as he dashed From out his mossy nest, which crashed With its supporting bough, And the first sunlight, leaping, flashed On the wolfs haunt below.
Page 23 - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise : So generations in their course decay; So flourish these, when those are pass'd away.

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