Gems for the Fireside: Comprising the Most Unique, Touching, Pithy, and Beautiful Literary Treasures from the Greatest Minds in the Realms of Poetry and Philosophy, Wit and Humor, Statesmanship and ReligionOtis Henry Tiffany Hubbard Bros., 1883 - 912 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 15
... Wife's Kiss . 244 The Rest of the Just . . 545 The Last Station . 271 BEECHER , HENRY WARD . Schooling a Husband Lord Dundreary at Brighton . Regulus to the Roman Senate . Hypochondriac .. Mariner's description of Piano . 495 313 ' Biah ...
... Wife's Kiss . 244 The Rest of the Just . . 545 The Last Station . 271 BEECHER , HENRY WARD . Schooling a Husband Lord Dundreary at Brighton . Regulus to the Roman Senate . Hypochondriac .. Mariner's description of Piano . 495 313 ' Biah ...
الصفحة 21
... Wife . 68 The Stormy Petrel . CRANCH , CHRISTOPHER PEARSE . • • 362 422 439 By the Shore of the River . 517 CUNNINGHAM , Allan . A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea 587 CARY , ALICE . CUTTER , GEORGE W. My Creed .. 266 The Miser . 226 ...
... Wife . 68 The Stormy Petrel . CRANCH , CHRISTOPHER PEARSE . • • 362 422 439 By the Shore of the River . 517 CUNNINGHAM , Allan . A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea 587 CARY , ALICE . CUTTER , GEORGE W. My Creed .. 266 The Miser . 226 ...
الصفحة 61
... wife hands me my satchel and tells me she thinks she hears the whistle . I plunge madly around looking for my umbrella , then I kiss the family good - by as well as I can with a mouth full of roll , and dash toward the door . Just as I ...
... wife hands me my satchel and tells me she thinks she hears the whistle . I plunge madly around looking for my umbrella , then I kiss the family good - by as well as I can with a mouth full of roll , and dash toward the door . Just as I ...
الصفحة 65
... WIFE . BARRIERS OF THE. The blessed Homes of England ! How softly on their bowers Is laid the holy quietness That breathes from Sabbath hours ! The cottage Homes of England ! By thousands on her plains , They are smiling o'er the silvery ...
... WIFE . BARRIERS OF THE. The blessed Homes of England ! How softly on their bowers Is laid the holy quietness That breathes from Sabbath hours ! The cottage Homes of England ! By thousands on her plains , They are smiling o'er the silvery ...
الصفحة 67
... wife to grind his corn . Chorus - Let us pity the white man - no mother has he , " etc. Trifling as this recital may appear to the reader , to a person in my situation the circumstance was affecting in the highest degree . I was ...
... wife to grind his corn . Chorus - Let us pity the white man - no mother has he , " etc. Trifling as this recital may appear to the reader , to a person in my situation the circumstance was affecting in the highest degree . I was ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Alfred Tennyson Alice Cary angels Barry Cornwall beautiful bells beneath blessed born breath Bregenz BRET HARTE bright CHARLES DICKENS child cloud cold cried dark dead dear death deep died door dream earth eyes face father feel feet flowers forever GEMS George Eliot grave gray hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hour John kiss land laugh light live Longfellow look Lord morning mother never night o'er OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY Pickwick poems poet poor pray prayer rest river round Shakespeare shine shore silent sing sleep smile snow song sorrow soul spirit stars stood sweet tears tell thee There's things THOMAS HOOD thou thought to-day Twas voice Washington Irving wave weary wife wild WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT wind words young
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 599 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
الصفحة 207 - Nor man nor boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence, in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, — Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
الصفحة 261 - Thy waters washed them power while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou; Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
الصفحة 158 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, . And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore...
الصفحة 818 - More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
الصفحة 202 - THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for her own.
الصفحة 521 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, — The desert and illimitable air, — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
الصفحة 260 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore ; There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar : I love not man the less, but nature more...
الصفحة 278 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
الصفحة 547 - But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.