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Página 114 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close ; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Página 88 - Hear the loud alarum bells — Brazen bells ! What a tale of terror now their turbulency tells ! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright ! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune ! In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire...
Página 173 - Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Página 103 - Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years, Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe Are brackish with the salt of human tears! Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow Claspest the limits of mortality, And sick of prey, yet howling on for more, Vomitest thy wrecks on its inhospitable shore; Treacherous in calm, and terrible in storm, Who shall put forth on thee, Unfathomable Sea?
Página 78 - Three years she grew in sun and shower; Then Nature said: "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown; This child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A lady of my own. "Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse; and with me The girl in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power, To kindle or restrain.
Página 9 - WE sow the glebe, we reap the corn, We build the house where we may rest, And then, at moments, suddenly, We look up to the great wide sky, Inquiring wherefore we were born . . . For earnest, or for jest...
Página 149 - Beneath the gas-fixtures we whispered our love. Without any romance, or raptures, or sighs, Without any tears in Miss Flora's blue eyes, Or blushes, or transports, or such silly actions, — It was one of the quietest business transactions, With a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any, And a very large diamond imported by Tiffany.
Página 225 - Such was the end of one of the noblest and best local preachers we ever had the privilege of associating with. It was, indeed, a privilege to be associated with him; he was so full of love to God and man, and of kindly, good words, that one could hardly be with him without feeling...