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actions August Bacon bear beauty begin believe better Beware brave bring comes counsel dead death December desire devil doubt earth enemy error evil eyes fair faith fall fault fear February fool fortune friends give God's grow half hand happiness hast hath heads hear heart Heaven hold honest hour January judge July June keep leave less light live look lost man's March mean mind mouth nature needs never night November October once pains pass passions past peace present Proctor reason rest rich rule secret seek September silence sleep sometimes soul speak stand talk tell thee thine things thou thought thyself tongue true Trust truth turn virtue wealth wisdom wise wish worse worst wrong Young
Seite 114 - For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; \ ' His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
Seite 51 - Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Seite 103 - Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; And ask them, what report they bore to heaven ; And how they might have borne more welcome news.
Seite 100 - They are slaves who fear to speak For the fallen and the weak; They are slaves who will not choose Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, Rather than in silence shrink From the truth they needs must think; They are slaves who dare not be In the right with two or three.
Seite 68 - Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, And seems to creep, decrepit with his age ; Behold him, when past by ; what then is seen, But his broad pinions, swifter than the winds ? And all mankind, in contradiction strong, Rueful, aghast ! cry out on his career.
Seite 170 - Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
Seite 51 - JUDGE not ; the workings of his brain And of his heart thou canst not see ; What looks to thy dim eyes a stain, In God's pure light may only be A scar, brought from some well-won field, Where thou wouldst only faint and yield.
Seite 64 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...