The Cities of the Past

Priekinis viršelis
Trübner & Company, 1864 - 216 psl.
 

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Populiarios ištraukos

118 psl. - How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a cushion plump: It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump.
63 psl. - The word unto the prophet spoken Was writ on tables yet unbroken; The word by seers or sibyls told In groves of oak, or fanes of gold, Still floats upon the morning wind, Still whispers to the willing mind. One accent of the Holy Ghost The heedless world hath never lost.
31 psl. - Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be; They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
108 psl. - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts : not so thou; Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow: Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
162 psl. - Out upon Time ! it will leave no more Of the things to come than the things before ! Out upon Time ! who for ever will leave But enough of the past for the future to grieve...
35 psl. - One God, one law, one element, And one far-off divine event, To which the whole creation moves.
32 psl. - Time's noblest offspring is the last," our civilization should be the noblest; for we are " The heirs of all the ages in the foremost files of time...
164 psl. - Dangerous it were for the feeble brain of man to wade far into the doings of the Most High...
8 psl. - The snow-drop, and then the violet, Arose from the ground with warm rain wet, And their breath was mixed with fresh odour, sent From the turf, like the voice and the instrument.
16 psl. - Now, upon SYRIA'S land of roses * Softly the light of Eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted LEBANON, Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet.

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