Gems of Thought, and Flowers of FancyRichard Wright Procter |
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Page 33
... breath : Ours is an anniversary of death ! Oh , how this day recalls the bitter past ! This summer day , our loved one's last of life ; And this deep midnight hour , the very last Wherein she slumber'd from the final strife ; Even now ...
... breath : Ours is an anniversary of death ! Oh , how this day recalls the bitter past ! This summer day , our loved one's last of life ; And this deep midnight hour , the very last Wherein she slumber'd from the final strife ; Even now ...
Page 46
... breath in the moon's face . With wicker maun the merry maiden trips To gather linen from the orchard - pale : Anon she spreads it steaming at the hearth ; Anon heaps logs upon the blazing pile ; Her pretty rounded arm shows dappled o'er ...
... breath in the moon's face . With wicker maun the merry maiden trips To gather linen from the orchard - pale : Anon she spreads it steaming at the hearth ; Anon heaps logs upon the blazing pile ; Her pretty rounded arm shows dappled o'er ...
Page 51
... breath of fever pass'd , And life - blood shrank from the burning blast . Homeward he fled to the better shore , -- The toilsome voyage of life is o'er : He sleeps the sleep of the dreamless dead , A AND FLOWERS OF FANCY . 51.
... breath of fever pass'd , And life - blood shrank from the burning blast . Homeward he fled to the better shore , -- The toilsome voyage of life is o'er : He sleeps the sleep of the dreamless dead , A AND FLOWERS OF FANCY . 51.
Page 58
... breath of the balmy wind , And his pinions which shone in the sun - ray's hue , Were like silver and gold entwined ; And still onward he flew , Till he hung on the blue Of the sky like a bright fleecy cloud , And the music of spheres Is ...
... breath of the balmy wind , And his pinions which shone in the sun - ray's hue , Were like silver and gold entwined ; And still onward he flew , Till he hung on the blue Of the sky like a bright fleecy cloud , And the music of spheres Is ...
Page 74
... he died at his house on the Banks of the Yarrow , November 21 , 1835 ; and was buried in the churchyard adjoining the cottage where he first drew breath , I BLESS THEE AS THOU SLEEPEST . 66 FROM THE 72 GEMS OF THOUGHT.
... he died at his house on the Banks of the Yarrow , November 21 , 1835 ; and was buried in the churchyard adjoining the cottage where he first drew breath , I BLESS THEE AS THOU SLEEPEST . 66 FROM THE 72 GEMS OF THOUGHT.
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Gems of Thought, and Flowers of Fancy (Classic Reprint) Richard Wright Procter No preview available - 2018 |
Common terms and phrases
beautiful beneath bird bless bloom blue BORN bosom bower breast breath bright brow calm chamber door cheek cheer child clouds cold dark dead dear death deep DIED dreams e'en earth EBENEZER ELLIOTT EMILY BRONTE eyes fair fled flowers fond gaze gentle glide glory grave green Grongar Hill hast hath heard heart heaven hills hope JOHN SCHOLES JOSEPH AUGUSTINE WADE life's light live lonely look'd lyre maiden Malhamdale morning mortal mother MUSE Nature's ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd PHILIP JAMES BAILEY POEMS press'd Quoth the Raven Raven ROBERT TANNAHILL rose tree round seem'd shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars stream sunshine sweet tears tell thee thine thing THOMAS GASPEY THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY thou thought toil twas vale voice wandering wave weep wild WILLIAM PAYNTER wind wing young youth
Popular passages
Page 113 - The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve ; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long ! She wept with pity and delight, She blushed with love and virgin shame ; And like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. Her bosom heaved — she stepped aside, As conscious of my look she stept — Then suddenly, with timorous eye She fled to me and wept.
Page 230 - Tis morn ; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
Page 362 - ABOU BEN ADHEM — may his tribe increase — Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold And to the presence in the room he said: 'What writest thou?' The vision raised its head, And with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered: 'The names of those who love the Lord.
Page 96 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never— nevermore.
Page 366 - The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
Page 96 - But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking, "Nevermore.
Page 93 - Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.
Page 5 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an Eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist...
Page 193 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free. Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be.
Page 388 - In a drear-nighted December Too happy, happy Tree Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity : The north cannot undo them With a sleety whistle through them, Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime.