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adventures Arethusa asked beautiful becomes better boat Chicago coming course critic Death delightful doubt dust East especially eyes fact Falls fishing flowers followed forest hand head heart hill hold interest Italy Karl lady Lake leave less light limited live look lovely March matter ment mind morning nature never night notion novels observed once painted passed perhaps persons phrase picture piece play poet presently reason remarked remember reporter river seems shore side spring stand star station story streets summer sure tell things thought tion took town trail train trees turned week window Winnipeg wish wonderful woods writes young
Seite 53 - And she may still exist in undiminished vigour when some traveller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul's.
Seite 52 - I'll not hurt thee," says my Uncle Toby, rising from his chair, and going across the room with the fly in his hand. " I'll not hurt a hair of thy head. Go," says he, liftin<* up the sash, and opening his hand as he spoke to let it escape.
Seite 126 - UNDER the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
Seite 114 - The ashes of an oak in the chimney, are no epitaph- of that oak, to tell me how high or how large that was : it tells me not what flocks it sheltered while it stood, nor what men it hurt when it fell. The dust of great persons' graves is speechless too ; it says nothing, it distinguishes nothing.
Seite 125 - A wind sways the pines, And below Not a breath of wild air ; Still as the mosses that glow On the flooring and over the lines Of the roots here and there. The pine-tree drops its dead ; They are quiet, as under the sea. Overhead, overhead Rushes life in a race, As the clouds the clouds chase ; And we go, And we drop like the fruits of the tree, Even we, Even so.
Seite 131 - Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I : when I was at home, I was in a better place : but travellers must be content.
Seite 37 - Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
Seite 115 - The dust of great persons' graves is speechless too, it says nothing, it distinguishes nothing: as soon the dust of a wretch whom thou wouldest not, as of a prince whom thou couldest not look upon, will trouble thine eyes, if the wind blow it thither; and when a whirl-wind hath blown the dust of the churchyard into the church, and the man sweeps out the dust of the church into the churchyard, who will undertake to sift those dusts again, and to pronounce, This is the patrician, this is the noble...