In Bonds: A Novel

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A. Roman, 1867 - 247 pages
 

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Page 80 - What forged her cruel chain of moods, What set her feet in solitudes, And held the love within her mute, What mingled madness in the blood, A life-long discord and annoy, Water of tears with oil of joy, And hid within the folded bud Perversities of flower and fruit.
Page 374 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set, but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death...
Page 154 - Plead my cause, O Lord, with them that strive with me : Fight against them that fight against me.
Page 281 - I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope through darkness up to God, I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.
Page 53 - I will not ask where thou liest low, Nor gaze upon the spot ; There flowers or weeds at will may grow, So I behold them not : It is enough for me to prove That what I loved, and long must love, Like common earth can rot ; To me there needs no stone to tell, 'Tis Nothing that I loved so well.
Page 437 - And yet I know past all doubting, truly — A knowledge greater than grief can dim— I know, as he loved, he will love me duly — Yea better — e'en better than I love him. And as I walk by the vast calm river, The awful river so dread to see, I say, ' Thy breadth and thy depth for ever Are bridged by his thoughts that cross to me.
Page 24 - Thou wilt need no heavier, thou shalt feel no worse. I see the cloud and the tempest near ; The voice of the troubled tide I hear ; The torrent of sorrow, the sea of grief, The rushing waves of a wretched life : V Thy bosom's bark on the surge I see, And, maiden, thy loved one is there with thee.
Page 53 - AND thou art dead, as young and fair As aught of mortal birth ; And form so soft, and charms so rare, Too soon return'd to Earth ! Though earth received them in her bed, And o'er the spot the crowd may tread In carelessness or mirth, There is an eye which could not brook A moment on that grave to look.
Page 187 - Nae langer she wept^— her tears were a' spent,— Despair it was come, and she thought it content; She thought it content, but her cheek it grew pale, And she droop'd, like a lily broke down by the hail.
Page 199 - Remember the old man, and what he was Years after he had heard this heavy news. His bodily frame had been from youth to age Of an unusual strength.

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