The Livingstones [by G.A. Dalrymple].

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Page 59 - O DEATH, how bitter is the remembrance of thee to a man that liveth at rest in his possessions, Unto the man that hath nothing to vex him, and that hath prosperity in all things: Yea, unto him that is yet able to receive meat!
Page 163 - Night is the time for toil; To plough the classic field, Intent to find the buried spoil Its wealthy furrows yield; Till all is ours that sages taught, That poets sang, or heroes wrought. Night is the time to weep ; To wet with unseen tears Those graves of Memory, where sleep The joys of other years; Hopes, that were Angels at their birth, But perished young, like things of earth,.
Page 163 - ... boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay ! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But O for the touch of a...
Page 163 - And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still...
Page 270 - For ever and for ever, all in a blessed home — And there to wait a little while till you and Effie come — To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your breast — And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest THE LOTOS-EATERS "COURAGE!' he said, and pointed toward the land, 'This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.
Page 270 - O look ! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow; He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know.
Page 1 - As of the green leaves on a thick tree, some fall, and some grow; so is the generation of flesh and blood, one cometh to an end, and another is born.
Page 193 - Early in years, and yet more infantine In figure, she had something of sublime In eyes which sadly shone, as seraphs' shine. All youth — but' with an aspect beyond time; Radiant and grave — as pitying man's decline ; Mournful — but mournful of another's crime, She look'd as if she sat by Eden's door, And grieved for those who could return no more.
Page 120 - I look to recognise again, through the beautiful mask of their perfection, The dear, familiar faces I have somewhile loved on earth: I long to talk with grateful tongue of storms and perils past, And praise the mighty Pilot that hath steered us through the rapids...
Page 304 - But evil is wrought by want of Thought, As well as by want of Heart.

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