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Page 291 - 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.
Page 291 - The pattern grows, the well-depicted flower, Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn, Unfolds its bosom; buds, and leaves, and sprigs, And curling tendrils, gracefully disposed, Follow the nimble finger of the fair; A wreath, that cannot fade, of flowers that blow With most success when all besides decay.
Page 100 - Any thing like mystery, any thing withheld or withdrawn from our notice, seizes on our fancy by awakening our curiosity. Then we are won more by what we half perceive and half create than by what is openly expressed and freely bestowed. But this feeling is a part of our young life : when time and years have chilled us, when we can no longer afford to send our souls abroad, nor from our own superfluity of life and sensibility spare the materials out of which we build a shrine for our idol — then...
Page 121 - When poverty comes in at the door, love flies out through the window...
Page 115 - ... that wrings the breast, And every joy that dies, Tells us to seek a purer rest, And trust to holier ties. WHERE ARE THEY NOW? ANONYMOUS. Where are they now, who used at morn to gambol, Like bounding roebucks in our sunny path? Where are they now, who shared our evening ramble, And made the green wood vocal with their laugh? Where are they now, from earth's glad pathway riven? We trust, in heaven. Where are they now ? The early birds are singing Their joyful melodies to earth and air, While all...
Page 84 - No doubt, no doubt; but that is not what I mean."

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