Oliver Wendell Holmes: Poet, Littérateur, Scientist

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S.E. Cassino Company, 1883 - 356 pages
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Page 274 - We're twenty ! We're twenty ! Who says we are more ? He's tipsy, — young jackanapes ! — show him the door ! " Gray temples at twenty ? " — Yes ! white if we please ; Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there's nothing can freeze ! Was it snowing I spoke of ? Excuse the...
Page 28 - Several Poems compiled with great variety of Wit and Learning, full of Delight...
Page 275 - Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray ! The stars of its winter, the dews of its May ! And when we have done with our life-lasting toys. Dear Father, take care of Thy children, THE BOYS ! I860.— Xines.
Page 172 - A snake's small eye blinks dull and shy, And the lady's eyes they shrunk in her head; Each shrunk up to a serpent's eye...
Page 81 - And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith: Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith; But he shouted a song for the brave and the free — Just read on his medal, "My country,
Page 206 - I have been to hear some musicpounding. It was a young woman, with as many white muslin flounces round her as the planet Saturn has rings, that did it. She gave the music-stool a twirl or two and fluffed down on to it like a whirl of soap-suds in a hand-basin.
Page 268 - I would go fifty miles on foot, for I have not a horse worth riding on, to kiss the hand of that man whose generous heart will give up the reins of his imagination into his author's hands — be pleased he knows not why, and cares not wherefore.
Page 20 - Smooth, square forehead with uprolled hair; Lips that lover has never kissed; Taper fingers and slender wrist ; Hanging sleeves of stiff brocade; So they painted the little maid. On her hand a parrot green Sits unmoving and broods serene. Hold up the canvas full in view, — • Look! there's a rent the light shines through, Dark with a century's fringe of dust, — That was a Red-Coat's rapier-thrust ! Such is the tale the lady old, Dorothy's daughter's daughter, told.
Page 83 - twould boldly trip, And print those roses on my lip. But all its chief delight was still On roses thus itself to fill, And its pure virgin limbs to fold In whitest sheets of lilies cold : Had it lived long, it would have been Lilies without, roses within.
Page 111 - In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.

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