Masterpieces of the World's Best Literature, Volume 1

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Jeannette Leonard Gilder
Current Literature Publishing Company, 1910 - Anthologies
 

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Page 211 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap. Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Page 196 - Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired, Where gray-beard mirth, and smiling toil retired, Where village statesmen talked with looks profound And news much older than their ale went round.
Page 214 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Page 65 - This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom; but, after all do not depend too much upon your own industry and frugality and prudence, though excellent things; for they may all be blasted, without the blessing of Heaven; and, therefore, ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. Remember Job suffered, and was afterward prosperous. " And now, to conclude, Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other...
Page 199 - A weary waste expanding to the skies : Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee ; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
Page 264 - Which is why I remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark, And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar — Which the same I am free to maintain.
Page 58 - Methinks I hear some of you say, 'Must a man afford himself no leisure? I will tell thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says: 'Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure; and, since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not away an hour.
Page 218 - Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah ! why should they know their fate. Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise! No more; — where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Page 198 - How ill exchanged are things like these for thee ! How do thy potions, with insidious joy, Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy ! Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, Boast of a florid vigour not their own : At every draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe ; Till sapp'd their strength, and every part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.
Page 217 - These shall the fury Passions tear, The vultures of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that skulks behind ; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth, That inly gnaws the secret heart ; And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart.

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