The Recreations of a Country Parson. Second SeriesTicknor and Fields, 1861 - 442 Seiten |
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Seite 26
... poem , The Raven . But Poe was a humbug ; and it is impossible to place the least faith in anything said by him upon any subject whatever . In his writings we find him repeatedly avowing that he would assert any falsehood , provided it ...
... poem , The Raven . But Poe was a humbug ; and it is impossible to place the least faith in anything said by him upon any subject whatever . In his writings we find him repeatedly avowing that he would assert any falsehood , provided it ...
Seite 95
... poems , and leading articles , of the frequency of fraud in the dealings of tradesmen in towns , I never in my own experience have seen the least trace of it . Most human beings , however , will tell you that day by day they witness a ...
... poems , and leading articles , of the frequency of fraud in the dealings of tradesmen in towns , I never in my own experience have seen the least trace of it . Most human beings , however , will tell you that day by day they witness a ...
Seite 127
... poem how little use is the mere walk to the contemplative man , how thoroughly it falls short of the end of play . You see how the hectic lad who is supposed to have written the Elegy employed himself when he wandered abroad : There ...
... poem how little use is the mere walk to the contemplative man , how thoroughly it falls short of the end of play . You see how the hectic lad who is supposed to have written the Elegy employed himself when he wandered abroad : There ...
Seite 132
... poem from which I quote the lines which follow . Let me say here , that I verily believe some of my readers will not know the source whence I draw these lines . More is the shame : but longer experience of life is giving me a deep ...
... poem from which I quote the lines which follow . Let me say here , that I verily believe some of my readers will not know the source whence I draw these lines . More is the shame : but longer experience of life is giving me a deep ...
Seite 136
... poem , I am not sure that ' The calm retreat , the silent shade , with prayer and praise agree , ' better than the closet into which the weary man may enter , in the quiet evening , after the business and bustle of the town . People may ...
... poem , I am not sure that ' The calm retreat , the silent shade , with prayer and praise agree , ' better than the closet into which the weary man may enter , in the quiet evening , after the business and bustle of the town . People may ...
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Seite 174 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Seite 110 - tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music ! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it. And hark ! how blithe the throstle sings ! He, too, is no mean preacher: Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your Teacher.
Seite 128 - There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove ; Now drooping, woful, wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.
Seite 226 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumor of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more...
Seite 412 - Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows. "And here, on this delightful day, I cannot choose but think How oft, a vigorous man, I lay Beside this fountain's brink. "My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
Seite 187 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more.
Seite 295 - Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress; That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness.
Seite 329 - O that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest — Ps.
Seite 122 - And labours hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labour or of skill I would be busy too: For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play Let my first years be past, That I may give for every day Some good account at last.
Seite 305 - From the lone shieling of the misty island Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas — Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland, And we in dreams behold the Hebrides : Fair these broad meads, &c.