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Ambrose Bazaine beautiful began Birkenholt brother Cadgwith called canons Charles church clavichord colour Cornish Cornwall court dance Dartmoor Darton Dennet door Dragon court Drawing England English Eocene eyes face father feet Forest garden Giles girl hall hand harpsichord head heard heart John Julia King King Arthur knew ladies lads Land's End letters light live Lizard London looked Lord Marazion Mark Master Headley Matthew Arnold ment mind morning mother nature never night once oyster passed perhaps Perronel pianoforte Poltesco poor Post-Office present Prince Randall river rock round Sally seemed seen side smile spinet Stephen stood strange sun-birds tell thee things thou thought Tibble tion told took turned Uinta Mountains uncle walk woman words young
Page 189 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Page 376 - Thou must be patient; we came crying hither. Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, We wawl, and cry: — I will preach to thee; mark me. Glo. Alack, alack the day ! Lear. When we are born, we cry, that we are come To this great stage of fools...
Page 374 - Too old, by heaven : let still the woman take An elder than herself : so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart : For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are.
Page 183 - Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows, The young birds are chirping in the nest, The young fawns are playing with the shadows, The young flowers are blowing toward the west — But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly! They are weeping in the playtime of the others, In the country of the free.
Page 269 - The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Page 725 - The waiter took a fever, in which he lay for some time. When he recovered, he said he had a message to deliver to some women from Ford; but he was not to tell what, or to whom. He walked out; he was followed; but somewhere about St. Paul's they lost him. He came back, and said he had delivered the message, and the women exclaimed, 'Then we are all undone!
Page 214 - Läßt der Türme Flammengipfel, Marmorhäuser, eine Schöpfung Seiner Fülle, hinter sich. Zedernhäuser trägt der Atlas Auf den Riesenschultern: sausend Wehen über seinem Haupte Tausend Flaggen durch die Lüfte, Zeugen seiner Herrlichkeit. Und so trägt er seine Brüder, Seine Schätze, seine Kinder Dem erwartenden Erzeuger Freudebrausend an das Herz.
Page 381 - For the lips of a strange woman drop as an honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil: but her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death; her steps take hold on hell.