Annals of Cleveland

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Seite 209 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Seite 59 - Give a man the secure possession of a bleak rock, and he will turn it into a garden; give him a nine years' lease of a garden, and he will convert it into a desert.
Seite 222 - I SAW old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like Silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn ; Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
Seite 214 - A bridge across a hundred years, Without a prop to save it from sneers, — Not even a couple of rotten Peers, — A thing for laughter, fleers, and jeers, Is American aristocracy.
Seite 208 - A whispered word may touch the heart, And call it back to life ; A look of love bid sin depart, And still unholy strife.
Seite 224 - SPEAK softly to the fatherless ! And check the harsh reply That sends the crimson to the cheek. The tear-drop to the eye. " They have the weight of loneliness, In this rude world to bear ; Then gently raise the fallen bud, The drooping floweret spare. " Speak kindly to the fatherless ! The lowliest of their band God keepeth, as the waters, In the hollow of his hand. " 'Tis sad to see life's evening sun Go down in sorrow's shroud, But sadder still when morning's dawn Is darkened by the cloud.
Seite 221 - The noblest men that live on earth, Are men whose hands are brown with toil; Who, backed by no ancestral graves, Hew down the woods, and till the soil; And win thereby a prouder name Than follows king's or warrior's fame.
Seite 215 - HO, ye who at the anvil toil, and strike the sounding blow Where from the burning iron's breast the sparks fly to and fro, While answering to the hammer's ring and fire's...
Seite 213 - WHAT might be done if men were wise— What glorious deeds, my suffering brother, Would they unite, In love and right, And cease their scorn of one another ? Oppression's heart might be imbued With kindling drops of loving-kindness, And knowledge pour, From shore to shore, Light on the eyes of mental blindness. All slavery, warfare, lies, and wrongs, All vice and crime might die together; And wine and corn, To each man born, Be free as warmth in summer...

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