Wandering Thoughts, Or Solitary Hours

T. Richardson, 1846 - 387 pāgines

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Pāgina 270 - To view the structure of this little work, A bird's nest. Mark it well, within, without. No tool had he that wrought, no knife to cut, No nail to fix, no bodkin to insert, No glue to join; his little beak was all. And yet how neatly finish'd ! What nice hand, With ev'ry implement and means of art, And twenty years apprenticeship to boot, Could make me such another?
Pāgina 218 - Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days. The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.
Pāgina 217 - There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest...
Pāgina 21 - As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, O'er Heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene ; Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole, O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head...
Pāgina 236 - But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints ; neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient: but rather giving of thanks.
Pāgina 30 - There is a consequence, besides those I have already mentioned, which seems very naturally deducible from the foregoing considerations. If the scale of being rises by such a regular progress, so high as man, we may, by a parity of reason, suppose that it still proceeds gradually through those beings which are of a superior nature to him...
Pāgina 81 - One murder made a villain Millions a hero. — Princes were privileged To kill, and numbers sanctified the crime. Ah ! why will kings forget that they are men ! And men that they are brethren? Why delight Inhuman sacrifice ? Why burst the ties Of nature, that should knit their souls together In one soft bond of amity and love...
Pāgina 10 - And made ev'n thick-lipp'd musing Melancholy To gather up her face into a smile Before she was aware ? Ah ! sullen now, And dumb as the green turf that covers them ! Where are the mighty thunderbolts of war ? The Roman Csesars and the Grecian chiefs, The boast of story?
Pāgina 130 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Pāgina 71 - And amidst the flashing and feathery foam, The stormy petrel finds a home...

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