The Ladies' Wreath, 第 1 卷

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Martyn & Ely, 1847
 

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第375页 - HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returuest, Was not spoken of the soul.
第51页 - is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt. And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear; Till oft converse with
第4页 - a vigilant eye how books demean themselves as well as men. For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a progeny of life in them, to be as active as that soul whose progeny they are. I know they are as lively and as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth; and being sown up
第93页 - Greatness and goodness are not means but ends!" Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man ? Three treasures love and light, And calm thoughts regular as infant's breath; And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
第330页 - Only man in the plan shrinks from his part. Labor is life!—'Tis the still water faileth; Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth; Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth! Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Labor is glory!—the flying cloud lightens; Only the roving wind changes and brightens; Idle hearts only, the
第165页 - The mists that wrapped the Pilgrim's sleep, Still brood upon the tide ; And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep, To stay its waves of pride. But the snow-white sail, that she gave to the gale When the heavens looked dark, is gone; As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud,
第69页 - whom having not seen we love, in whom though now we see him not, yet believing, we rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory, till we receive the end of our faith,
第165页 - Go, stand on the hill where they lie. The earliest ray of the golden day, On that hallowed spot is cast; And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, Looks kindly on that spot last. The Pilgrim spirit has not fled— It walks in noon's broad light; And it watches the bed of the glorious dead. With the holy
第334页 - her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the clays of her life.
第237页 - seat. There is a spot where spirits blend, Where friend holds fellowship with friend; Though sundered far, by faith we meet, Around one common Mercy-Seat. Ah! whither could we flee for aid, When

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