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admirable Aigues-Mortes Amboise American ancient appeared asked baroness beautiful better birds Boomtown Bourges called Carcassonne century character charming Chenonceaux church course dark English eyes face fact feel France French give hand head heard heart Hedwig Hobart hour ical interest knew lady laugh light Lira live look Lord Hawk Louis XIV Marie de Hautefort ment mind Miss morning Narbonne nature ness never night Nimes Nino Octavia Oliphant once passed perhaps person phant poets political pretty Rome seemed side sing smile Spain speak spirit stood story street suppose sure talk tell Theodore Parker thing Thor Thorburn thought tion to-day took Touraine town tradition truth turned uncon voice vulture walk whole window woman wonder word young
Page 273 - If any one attempts to haul down the American flag, shoot him on the spot.
Page 341 - Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, That they might answer him. — And they would shout Across the watery vale, and shout again, Responsive to his call, — with quivering peals, And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild Of jocund din!
Page 52 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive Pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car.
Page 51 - You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own ; What are you when the rose is blown ? So, when my mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, Tell me, if she were not design'd Th...
Page 340 - When he heard the owls at midnight, Hooting, laughing in the forest, "What is that ?" he cried, in terror ; "What is that?" he said, "Nokomis ?" And the good Nokomis answered : " That is but the owl and owlet, Talking in their native language, Talking, scolding at each other.
Page 341 - There was a roaring in the wind all night; The rain came heavily and fell in floods; But now the sun is rising calm and bright; The birds are singing in the distant woods; Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods; The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters; And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.
Page 56 - Some have too much, yet still do crave; I little have, and seek no more. They are but poor, though much they have, And I am rich with little store: They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.
Page 335 - He is the poet of the dawn, who wrote The Canterbury Tales, and his old age Made beautiful with song; and as I read I hear the crowing cock, I hear the note Of lark and linnet, and from every page Rise odors of ploughed field or flowery mead.
Page 55 - Take me away, and in the lowest deep There let me be, And there in hope the lone night-watches keep, Told out for me. There, motionless and happy in my pain, Lone, not forlorn, — There will I sing my sad perpetual strain, Until the morn. There will I sing, and soothe my stricken breast, Which ne'er can cease To throb, and pine, and languish, till possest Of its sole Peace. There will I sing my absent Lord and Love...