A hand book of Dorking [by J. Dennis].

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第21页 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues...
第126页 - Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude ; Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, That in the various bustle of resort Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. He that has light within his own clear breast, May sit i...
第55页 - YE field flowers ! the gardens eclipse you, 'tis true, Yet, wildings of Nature, I doat upon you, For ye waft me to summers of old, When the earth teem'd around me with fairy delight, And when daisies and buttercups gladden'd my sight, Like treasures of silver and gold.
第119页 - If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions. I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.
第27页 - To one who has been long in city pent, "Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven,— to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament. Who is more happy, when, with heart's content, Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair And gentle tale of love and languishment? Returning home at evening, with an ear Catching the notes of Philomel, — an eye...
第59页 - What care ye now, if winter's storm Sweep ruthless o'er each silken form ? Christ's blessing at your heart is warm, Ye fear no vexing mood. Alas ! of thousand bosoms kind, That daily court you and...
第22页 - Suffices me, — her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears. " The dragon's wing, the magic ring, I shall not covet for my dower, If I along that lowly way With sympathetic heart may stray, And with a soul of power.
第128页 - No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life ; for there is in London all that life can afford.
第97页 - The blossom'd bean-field, and the sloping green, Leans o'er its humble gate, and thinks the while — Oh ! that for me some home like this would smile, Some hamlet shade, to yield my sickly form Health in the breeze, and shelter in the storm...
第21页 - tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.

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