The Onward reciter ed. by W. Darrah, Volume 3

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William Darrah
1874
 

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Page 10 - The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot Sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead. That is the grasshopper's : he takes the lead In summer luxury — he has never done With his delights, for when tired out with fun, He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
Page 64 - But now I have written unto you not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner; with such a one | no not to eat.
Page 63 - But Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the portion of the king's meat, nor with the wine which he drank : therefore he requested of the prince of the eunuchs that he might not defile himself.
Page 65 - We kneel, and all around us seems to lower ; We rise ; and all, the distant and the near, Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear. We kneel, how weak ! we rise, how full of power...
Page 130 - Not in the least," replied the pendulum; " it is not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions." *'" Very good," replied the dial; " but recollect, that though you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you are required to execute but one; and that, however often you may hereafter have to swing, a moment will always be given you to swing in.
Page 93 - THE night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done.
Page 27 - And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer. And while on her pillow she softly lay, She knew nothing more till again it was day; And all things said to the beautiful sun, "Good morning, good morning! our work is begun.
Page 58 - THE more we live, more brief appear Our life's succeeding stages : A day to childhood seems a year, And years like passing ages. The gladsome current of our youth, Ere passion yet disorders, Steals lingering like a river smooth Along its grassy borders. But as the care-worn cheek grows wan, And sorrow's shafts fly thicker, Ye Stars, that measure life to man, Why seem your courses quicker ? When joys have lost their bloom and breath And life itself is vapid, Why, as we reach the Falls of Death, Feel...
Page 62 - Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.
Page 62 - And the harp, and the viol, the tabret, and pipe, And wine, are in their feasts: But they regard not the work of the Lord, Neither consider the operation of his hands.

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