The Autumn Holidays of a Country Parson

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Longman, Green, Longman, 1864 - 418 pages
 

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Page 349 - WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Page 325 - The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language. Selected and arranged, with Notes, by FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE.
Page 361 - A servant with this clause makes drudgery divine; who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, makes that and the action fine.
Page 335 - Nevermore." And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore!
Page 263 - And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.
Page 375 - Elders who possess the necessary "measure of enlightenment and discrimination" to "fulfil the calling of the shepherd of souls." In the general meeting the men sit on one side of the church and the women on the other...
Page 338 - ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise ; I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain.
Page 173 - But ye know the proof of him, that, as a son with the father, he hath served with me in the gospel. Him therefore I hope to send presently, so soon as I shall see how it will go with me. But I trust in the Lord that I also myself shall come shortly.
Page 360 - To scorn the senses' sway, While still to thee I tend ; In all I do, be thou the way, In all be thou the end.
Page 120 - I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such '. — It was. Where thou art gone, Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, The parting word shall pass my lips no more ! Thy maidens grieved themselves at my concern, Oft gave me promise of thy quick return.

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