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Seite 227 - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech ; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach.
Seite 334 - Chartier has lasted four hundred years, and put it into the head of many an ill-favored poet, whether Victoria, or Eugenie, would do as much by him, if she happened to pass him when he was asleep. And have we ever forgotten that the fresh cheek of the young John Milton tingled under the lips of some high-born Italian beauty, who, I believe, did not think to leave her card by the side of the slumbering youth, but has bequeathed the memory of her pretty deed to all coming time ? The sound of a kiss...
Seite 261 - So deeply had she drunken in That look, those shrunken serpent eyes, That all her features were resigned To this sole image in her mind: And passively did imitate That look of dull and treacherous hate!
Seite 398 - Sun of our life, thy quickening ray Sheds on our path the glow of day ; Star of our hope, thy softened light Cheers the long watches of the night.
Seite 352 - O Love Divine, that stooped to share Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear, On Thee we cast each earthborn care, We smile at pain while Thou art near 1 Though long the weary way we tread, And sorrow crown each lingering year, No path we shun, no darkness dread, Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near...
Seite 59 - Gray temples at twenty? Yes! white if we please. Where the snowflakes fall thickest there's nothing can freeze ! Was it snowing I spoke of?
Seite 59 - Member of congress" we say when we chaff; There's the Reverend. What's his name? — don't make me laugh. That boy with the grave mathematical look Made believe he had written a wonderful book, And the ROYAL SOCIETY thought it was true! So they chose him right in; a good joke it was, too! There's a boy we pretend, with a three-decker brain, That could harness a team with a logical chain; When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire, We called him "The Justice,
Seite 59 - THE BOYS. Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys ? If there has, take him out, without making a noise ! Hang the Almanac's cheat and the Catalogue's spite ! Old Time is a liar ! We 're twenty to-night ! We 're twenty ! We 're twenty ! Who says we are more ? He 's tipsy, — young jackanapes ! — show him the door ! —
Seite 88 - We must have a weak spot or two in a character before we can love it much. People that do not laugh or cry, or take more of anything than is good for them, or use anything but dictionary words, are admirable subjects for biographies. But we don't always care most for those flat-pattern flowers that press best in the herbarium.