The Book of Gems: A Gift for All SeasonsW. H. Fisk, 1854 - 312 pages |
Table des matières
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Autres éditions - Tout afficher
Expressions et termes fréquents
Altonock angel art thou autumn beaming beautiful birds bless bloom bosom breath breeze bright bright eyes brow burning calm cheek cheer clouds courser dark death deep doth dream dwell earth Factory Girl fading fair fancy father feel flowers forest gallant band gaze gems gentle girl glorious glory glowing hand happy Harriet Farley hast hath heart heaven hills hope Horace Greeley hour human kindly labor land laugh life's light live to love look lyre Manchester mind morning mountain nature ne'er neath never night o'er pale passed pride pure pure song rest Sanbornton Sarah Josepha Hale scene shade shine sigh skies smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars storm stream strife sunny sweet tears tempest thee thine things thou thought toil true truth Twas ultraist vale voice waves weary whispered wild winds wing woman's youth
Fréquemment cités
Page 266 - And as touching the dead that they rise ; have ye not read in the book of Moses, how in the bush, God spake unto him, saying, I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob? 27 He is not the God of the dead, but the God of the living : ye therefore do greatly err.
Page 34 - Now breezes bend in smooth and graceful waves, While with their motion, dim and bright by turns, The sunshine seems to move ; nor e'en a breath Brushes along the surface with a shade, Fleeting and thin, like that of flying smoke. The slender stalks, their heavy bended heads Support as motionless as oaks their tops. O'er all the woods the topmost leaves are still. E'en the wild poplar leaves, that pendent hang By stems elastic, quiver at a breath, Rest in the general calm.
Page 154 - ... nevertheless your stolen jewel, which you wanted him to find you, is not forthcoming. Often by some winged word, winged as the thunderbolt is, of a Luther, a Napoleon, a Goethe, shall we see the difficulty split asunder, and its secret laid bare ; while the Irrefragable, with all his logical tools, hews at it, and hovers round it, and finds it on all hands too hard for him.
Page 36 - And thy hopes may vanish like foam ; But when sails are shivered and rudder lost, Then look to the light of home ; — And there, like a star through the midnight cloud, Thou »h alt see the beacon bright ; For never, till shining on thy shroud, Can be quenched its holy light.
Page 34 - The fields are still; The husbandman has gone to his repast, And, that partaken, on the coolest side Of his abode, reclines, in sweet repose. Deep in the shaded stream the cattle stand, The flocks beside the fence, with heads all prone, And panting quick. The fields, for harvest ripe, No breezes bend in smooth and graceful waves, While with their motion, dim and bright by turns, The sunshine seems to move ; nor e'en a breath Brushes along the surface with a shade Fleeting and thin, like that of flying;...
Page 104 - ... laden coffers. Perverted Old Age may grasp these with the unyielding clutch of insanity ; but they add to his cares and anxieties, not to his enjoyments. Ask rather — Has he mastered and harmonized his erring Passions ? — Has he lived a True Life ? A True Life ! — of how many lives does each hour knell the conclusion ! and how few of them are true ones ! The poor child of shame, and sin, and crime, who terminates her earthly being in the clouded morning of her scarce budded yet blighted...
Page 150 - E'en to my boyhood's eye. That old straw bonnet she has on, Tied with that bow of blue, Seems not to feel Time's changing hand, — 'Tis " near as good as new." The old silk gown — the square-toed shoes — Those gloves — that buckle's gleam, That silver buckle at her waist, To me like old friends seem. Live on — live on ; and may the years Touch lightly on thy brow ; As I beheld thee in my youth, And as I see thee now, — May I, when age its furrows deep Has ploughed upon my cheek, Behold...
Page 12 - HOURS. 0o, dream of by-past hours ; In retrospect, once more, Pluck fancy's gayest flowers, And revel in thy store. Go, seek thy native cot, Scene of affection free, Where pleasure cheered thy lot, Where love was all to thee. Do this, but never tell The heartless world thy dream ; Its scorn would hope dispel, Would crush the fairy theme. Do this, but in thy breast Let each fond wish expire : For sorrows unrepressed Are his who loves the lyre.
Page 107 - How like to the wars of the infuriated animalcute in a magnified drop of water, is the strife constantly waged in each little mind ! How Sloth is jostled by Gluttony, and Pride wrestled with by Avarice, and Ostentation bearded by Meanness ! The soul which is not large enough for the indwelling of one virtue, affords lodgment, and scope, and arena for a hundred vices. But their warfare cannot be indulged with impunity. Agitation and wretchedness are the inevitable consequences, in the midst of which,...
Page 36 - MY boy, thou wilt dream the world is fair, And thy spirit will sigh to roam ; And thou must go ; but never, when there, Forget the light of home. Though pleasure may smile with a ray more bright, It dazzles to lead astray : Like the meteor's flash, 'twill deepen the night, When thou treadest the lonely way. But the hearth of home has a constant flame, And pure as vestal fire : 'Twill burn, 'twill burn, for ever the same, For nature feeds the pyre.