The Old Farm House

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Charles H. Davis, 1855 - Farm life - 461 pages
 

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Page 123 - Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain : Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters : who maketh the clouds his chariot ; who walketh upon the wings of the wind...
Page 61 - Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start...
Page 440 - IT often fals, in course of common life, That right long time is overborne of wrong Through avarice, or powre, or guile, or strife, That weakens her, and makes her party strong; But Justice, though her dome she doe prolong, Yet at the last she will her owne cause right...
Page 174 - Not as a child shall we again behold her ; For when with raptures wild In our embraces we again enfold her, She will not be a child ; But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, Clothed with celestial grace ; And beautiful with all the soul's expansion Shall we behold her face.
Page 273 - Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness.
Page 234 - For there is no remembrance of the wise more than of the fool for ever; seeing that which now is in the days to come shall all be forgotten. And how dieth the wise man ? as the fool.
Page 61 - And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Page 396 - Kind words, remembered voices once so sweet, Smiles, radiant long ago, And features, the great soul's apparent seat. All shall come back; each tie Of pure affection shall be knit again; Alone shall Evil die, And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign. And then shall I behold Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung, And her, who, still and cold, Fills the next grave— the beautiful and young.
Page 294 - The quality of mercy is not strained, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed: It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes...
Page 388 - twas a bashful art, That I might rather feel, than see, The swelling of her heart.

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