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Page 79 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet — the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
Page 79 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware.
Page 64 - Eternal coeternal beam, May I express thee unblamed ? since God is light, And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate! Or hear'st thou rather, pure ethereal stream, Whose fountain who shall tell ? Before the sun, Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite.
Page 64 - Thus with the year Seasons return; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine...
Page 15 - Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote ; Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining; Though equal to all things, for all things unfit, Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit : For a patriot, too cool ; for a drudge, disobedient ; And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, Sir, To eat mutton cold, and...
Page 250 - The sea ! the sea ! the open sea ! The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth's wide regions round! It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies; Or like a cradled creature lies.
Page 287 - Let him follow me! By oppression's woes and pains! By your sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free! Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow!
Page 352 - My fairest child, I have no song to give you ; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray : Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever ; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long : And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever One grand, sweet song.
Page 15 - This story shall the good man teach his son ; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered ; — We few, we happy few, we band of brothers : For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me, Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition...