Crown Jewels, Or Gems of Literature, Art and Music: Being Choice Selections from the Writings and Musical Productions of the Most Celebrated Authors, from the Earliest Times
Henry Davenport Northrop
Northwestern Publishing Company, 1888 - American literature - 632 pages
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arms beauty bells beneath birds born brave breast breath bright child close clouds cold comes cried dark dead dear death deep died dream earth eyes face fair fall father fear feel feet field fire flowers give gone grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour keep king land leaves light lips live look Lord mind morning mother never night o'er once passed poor rest ring rose round sail seemed ship shore side sing sleep smile song soon soul sound spirit stand stars stood summer sweet tears tell thee things thou thought Till tree true turned voice wait wandering watch waters wave wild wind wings young
Page 153 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore. There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more...
Page 79 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Page 124 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Page 254 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Page 362 - High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised: But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with...
Page 255 - The applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide ; To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame ; Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride With incense kindled...
Page 249 - In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea. With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me; As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free. While God is marching on.
Page 44 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar...
Page 372 - Lord, abide with me. I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless ; Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness: Where is death's sting ? where, grave, thy victory ? I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes : Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies ; Heaven's morning breaks and earth's vain shadows flee : In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
Page 256 - Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. » In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ; Be a hero in the strife ! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act, — act...