American Poets and Their Theology

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Griffith and Rowland, 1916 - 485 pages
Examines the work of zoo veterinarians focusing on such cases as a tiger with a toothache, a gorilla with a cold, and a tortoise with a broken bone.
 

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Page 3 - in the closing lines of the poem: So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon; but,
Page 354 - Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimples sleek; Sport, that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter
Page 330 - stanza: This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main,— The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. Build
Page 410 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny, and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From the contagion of the world's slow stain He is secure, and now can never mourn A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain.
Page 188 - tapping at my chamber door: Only this, and nothing more." Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; : '
Page 271 - The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, In whatso we share with another's need; Not what we give, but what we share, For the gift without the giver is bare; Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me.
Page 217 - us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. These
Page 270 - At the devil's booth are all things sold, Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold; For a cap and bells our lives we pay, Bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking: "Tis heaven alone that is given away, "Tis only God may be had for the asking.
Page 144 - God pity them both! and pity us all. Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: " It might have been! " Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes; And, in the hereafter, angels may Roll the stone from its grave away!
Page 14 - The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them—ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.

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