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American Literary Society, 1901
 

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Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen

Populaire passages

Pagina 5505 - At midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour "When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror...
Pagina 5502 - Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days! None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise.
Pagina 5506 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be.
Pagina 5506 - Strike — till the last armed foe expires; Strike — for your altars and your fires; Strike — for the green graves of your sires, God — and your native land!
Pagina 5663 - But the hands that were played By that heathen Chinee, And the points that he made, Were quite frightful to see, — Till at last he put down a right bower, Which the same Nye had dealt unto me. Then I looked up at Nye, And he gazed upon me ; And he rose with a sigh, And said, " Can this be? We are ruined by Chinese cheap labour," — And he went for that heathen Chinee.
Pagina 5579 - Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; The labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; The flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.
Pagina 5663 - Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar, Which the same I would rise to explain.
Pagina 5573 - UNVISITED. [See the various Poems the scene of which is laid upon the banks of the Yarrow ; in particular, the exquisite Ballad of Hamilton, beginning "Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny Bride, Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome Marrow...
Pagina 5389 - Require the borrowed gloss of art ? Speak not of fate : ah ! change the theme, And talk of odours, talk of wine, Talk of the flowers that round us bloom : 'Tis all a cloud, 'tis all a dream ; To love and joy thy thoughts confine, Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom.
Pagina 5575 - Flows Yarrow sweet ? as sweet, as sweet flows Tweed, As green its grass, its gowan as yellow, As sweet smells on its braes the birk, The apple frae the rock as mellow.

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