Gems for the Fireside: Comprising the Most Unique, Touching, Pithy, and Beautiful Literary Treasures from the Greatest Minds in the Realms of Poetry and Philosophy, Wit and Humor, Statesmanship and ReligionOtis Henry Tiffany Hubbard Bros., 1883 - 912 pages |
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Page 29
... stood on that bridge at midnight . " 44 Girt round with rugged mountains . " 44 The untrodden snow . " . " The ripples lightly toss the boat . " 30 ILLUSTRATIONS . GRAVEYARD TITLE . ANCESTRAL HOMESTEAD MOTHER AND. 29 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
... stood on that bridge at midnight . " 44 Girt round with rugged mountains . " 44 The untrodden snow . " . " The ripples lightly toss the boat . " 30 ILLUSTRATIONS . GRAVEYARD TITLE . ANCESTRAL HOMESTEAD MOTHER AND. 29 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page 31
... stood before .. a large church door . " 238 " 6 Maiden with the meek brown eyes . " 246 66 I wandered by the mill ” . 247 44 How does the water come down at Lodore ? " . 248 " We sat by the fisher's cottage " 253 66 He took the little ...
... stood before .. a large church door . " 238 " 6 Maiden with the meek brown eyes . " 246 66 I wandered by the mill ” . 247 44 How does the water come down at Lodore ? " . 248 " We sat by the fisher's cottage " 253 66 He took the little ...
Page 37
... stood , As now they stand , massy and tall and dark , Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold Communion with his Maker . These dim vaults , These winding aisles , of human pomp or pride , Report not . No fantastic carvings show The ...
... stood , As now they stand , massy and tall and dark , Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold Communion with his Maker . These dim vaults , These winding aisles , of human pomp or pride , Report not . No fantastic carvings show The ...
Page 51
... STOOD on the bridge at midnight , As the clocks were striking the hour , And the moon rose o'er the city , Behind the dark church tower ; And like the waters rushing Among the wooden piers , A flood of thought came o'er me , That filled ...
... STOOD on the bridge at midnight , As the clocks were striking the hour , And the moon rose o'er the city , Behind the dark church tower ; And like the waters rushing Among the wooden piers , A flood of thought came o'er me , That filled ...
Page 52
... stood above Lake Constance , a thousand and more . years Her battlements and towers , upon their rocky steep , Have cast their trembling shadows of ages on the deep ; Mountain , and lake , and valley , a sacred legend know , speech ...
... stood above Lake Constance , a thousand and more . years Her battlements and towers , upon their rocky steep , Have cast their trembling shadows of ages on the deep ; Mountain , and lake , and valley , a sacred legend know , speech ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alfred Tennyson Alice Cary angels Barry Cornwall beautiful bells beneath blessed born breath Bregenz BRET HARTE bright CHARLES DICKENS child cloud cold cried dark dead dear death deep died door dream earth eyes face father feel feet flowers forever GEMS George Eliot grave gray hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hour John kiss land laugh light live Longfellow look Lord morning mother never night o'er OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY Pickwick poems poet poor pray prayer rest river round Shakespeare shine shore silent sing sleep smile snow song sorrow soul spirit stars stood sweet tears tell thee There's things THOMAS HOOD thou thought to-day Twas voice Washington Irving wave weary wife wild WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT wind words young
Popular passages
Page 599 - 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 207 - Nor man nor boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence, in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, — Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Page 261 - Thy waters washed them power while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou; Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Page 158 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, . And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore...
Page 818 - More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Page 202 - THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for her own.
Page 521 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, — The desert and illimitable air, — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Page 260 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore ; There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar : I love not man the less, but nature more...
Page 278 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
Page 547 - But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.