The Cities of the Past

Forsideomslag
Trübner & Company, 1864 - 216 sider

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Side 118 - How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a cushion plump: It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump.
Side 63 - The word unto the prophet spoken Was writ on tables yet unbroken; The word by seers or sibyls told In groves of oak, or fanes of gold, Still floats upon the morning wind, Still whispers to the willing mind. One accent of the Holy Ghost The heedless world hath never lost.
Side 31 - Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be; They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
Side 108 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts : not so thou; Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow: Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Side 162 - Out upon Time ! it will leave no more Of the things to come than the things before ! Out upon Time ! who for ever will leave But enough of the past for the future to grieve...
Side 35 - One God, one law, one element, And one far-off divine event, To which the whole creation moves.
Side 32 - Time's noblest offspring is the last," our civilization should be the noblest; for we are " The heirs of all the ages in the foremost files of time...
Side 164 - Dangerous it were for the feeble brain of man to wade far into the doings of the Most High...
Side 8 - The snow-drop, and then the violet, Arose from the ground with warm rain wet, And their breath was mixed with fresh odour, sent From the turf, like the voice and the instrument.
Side 16 - Now, upon SYRIA'S land of roses * Softly the light of Eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted LEBANON, Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet.

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