English Journal, Volume 8

Front Cover
National Council of Teachers of English, 1919
 

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Page 343 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; And in the lowest deep a lower deep, Still threatening to devour me opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
Page 341 - This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England...
Page 343 - A dungeon horrible on all sides round, As one great furnace flamed ; yet from those flames No light ; but rather darkness visible, Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell ; hope never comes, That comes to all ; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Page 346 - Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
Page 350 - Where may the wearied eye repose When gazing on the great; Where neither guilty glory glows, Nor despicable state ? Yes — one — the first — the last — the best— The Cincinnatus of the West, Whom envy dared not hate, Bequeathed the name of Washington, To make man blush there was but One !
Page 346 - Two Voices are there ; one is of the Sea, One of the Mountains ; each a mighty Voice : In both from age to age Thou didst rejoice, They were thy chosen Music, Liberty...
Page 347 - ANOTHER year! — another deadly blow ! Another mighty Empire overthrown ! And We are left, or shall be left, alone ; The last that dare to struggle with the Foe. "Tis well ! from this day forward we shall know That in ourselves our safety must be sought ; That by our own right hands it must be wrought ; That we must stand unpropped, or bo laid low.
Page 342 - CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed...
Page 344 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Page 342 - Arm, arm, and out! If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. I 'gin to be aweary of the sun And wish the estate o

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