The World's Way: Lays of Life and Labour

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William P. Nimmo, 1864 - 304页
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第222页 - All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
第185页 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
第220页 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
第25页 - And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
第95页 - Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace : » Referring to the obsequies for the dead.
第223页 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
第3页 - There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad hearts ! without reproach or blot Who do thy work, and know it not: Oh ! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power!
第31页 - Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest — Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
第139页 - Like to the falling of a star; Or as the flights of eagles are; Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue; Or silver drops of morning dew; Or like a wind that chafes the flood; Or bubbles which on water stood; Even such is man, whose borrowed light Is straight called in, and paid to night. The wind blows out; the bubble dies; The spring entombed in autumn lies; The dew dries up; the star is shot; The flight is past; and man forgot.
第271页 - O poor man's son ! scorn not thy state ; There is worse weariness than thine, In merely being rich and great ; Toil only gives the soul to shine, And makes rest fragrant and benign ; A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being poor to hold in fee. Both, heirs to some six feet of sod, Are equal in the earth at last; Both, children of the same dear God, Prove title to your heirship vast By record of a well-filled past ; A heritage, it seems to me, Well worth a life to hold in fee. THE ROSE: A BALLAD IN...

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