The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table

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W. Paterson, 1858 - 279 pages
 

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Page 110 - 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. Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
Page 110 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Page 296 - Last of its timber, — they couldn't sell 'em, Never an axe had seen their chips, And the wedges flew from between their lips, Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips; Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too, Steel of the finest, bright and blue; Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide; Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide Found in the pit when the tanner died. That was the way he 'put her through.
Page 298 - The parson was working his Sunday's text,— Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed At what the— Moses— was coming next. All at once the horse stood still, Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill.
Page 111 - Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap, forlorn ! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! While on mine ear it rings, Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings — Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll ! Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Page 313 - My choice would be vanilla-ice. I care not much for gold or land; — Give me a mortgage here and there, — Some good bank-stock, some note of hand, Or trifling railroad share, — I only ask that Fortune send A little more than I shall spend.
Page 358 - If it please the king, and if I have found favor in his sight, and the thing seem right before the king, and I be pleasing in his eyes, let it be written to reverse the letters devised by Haman the...
Page 295 - Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it — ah, but stay...
Page 76 - My listening angel heard the prayer, and, calmly smiling, said, " If I but touch thy silvered hair, thy hasty wish hath sped. " But is there nothing in thy track to bid thee fondly stay, While the swift seasons hurry back to find the wished-for day...
Page 295 - Snuffy old drone from the German hive ! That was the year when Lisbon-town Saw the earth open and gulp her down, And Braddock's army was done so brown, Left without a scalp to its crown. It was on the terrible Earthquake-day That the Deacon finished the one-hoss-shay.

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