The Writings of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Volume 11Houghton, Mifflin, 1891 |
Common terms and phrases
angel arms beneath blaze blue blush breast breath bright brow burning CHARLES WENTWORTH UPHAM cheek child circling band crown dark dead dear dream dust earth echoes echoing verse faded fair faith flame flow flowers fold friends gleam glory glow golden golden reign grave green hand Harriet Martineau hear heart Heaven hill hour John Shakespeare Katydid leaves life's lift light lips living look lyre memory morning mountain nursling o'er ocean OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES once pale peace percussion cap plain poet poet's proud song rills ring Rip Van Winkle roll rose round shade shadows shine shore side sigh silent skies smile song soul springs star stethoscope strain stream sweet tear tell thee thine thou thought throbbing tides toil Toll the bell tongue tread trembling voice wandering warm waves wild wings young
Popular passages
Page 5 - AY, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky ; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar ; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes...
Page 6 - THE LAST LEAF I SAW him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through Mie town.
Page 206 - The wild-flowers who will stoop to number ? A few can touch the magic string, And noisy Fame is proud to win them : — Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them I Nay, grieve not for the dead alone Whose song has told their hearts...
Page 7 - In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago — That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here ; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer...
Page 23 - I WROTE some lines once on a time In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. They were so queer, so very queer, I laughed as I would die ; Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. I called my servant, and he came ; How kind it was of him. To mind a slender man like me, He of the mighty limb.
Page 100 - She pardoned one, our classic city's boast, Who said at Cambridge, most instead of most, But knit her brows and stamped her angry foot To hear a Teacher call a root a root. Once more ; speak clearly, if you speak at all ; Carve every word before you let it fall...
Page 6 - Long years have o'er her flown ; Yet still she strains the aching clasp That binds her virgin zone ; I know it hurts her, — though she looks As cheerful as she can ; Her waist is ampler than her life, For " life is but a span." My aunt, my poor deluded aunt ! Her hair is almost gray ; Why will she train that winter curl In such a spring-like way ? How can she lay her glasses down, And say she reads as well, When, through a double convex lens, She just makes out to spell...
Page 22 - That night I saw them in my dreams, How changed from what I knew them ! The dews had steeped their faded threads, The winds had whistled through them ! I saw the wide and ghastly rents Where demon claws had torn them ; A hole was in their amplest part, As if an imp had worn them.
Page 213 - O Father ! grant thy love divine To make these mystic temples thine ! When wasting age and wearying strife Have sapped the leaning walls of life, When darkness gathers over all, And the last tottering pillars fall, Take the poor dust thy mercy warms, And mould it into heavenly forms...
Page 59 - COME back to your mother, ye children, for shame, Who have wandered like truants for riches or fame ! With a smile on her face, and a sprig in her cap, She calls you to feast from her bountiful lap.