The Lute of LifeHorton, 1911 - 348 ページ |
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多く使われている語句
Babylon Barrington meadows beauty beneath birds blow blue brave breast breath brown burn cheek cold Curtis Publishing Company dark dawn dead dear death dewy dream drip drowsy dusk earth echoing night eyes face fancy feet flowers forever garden Garden of Love gate ghosts gleam gloom glory gold golden Good-night grass gray hair hand Happy the day hath hear heart Hesperides hills Hunter's Moon Island of Reil JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY kiss land laughing light lips lisp lone Love's lute melodies moon neath never night o'er pale passion pawpaw pipe poet rest rhyme round shadow shine sigh silence sing skies sleep smile song soul spirit splendor stars Storm Lake stream summer sweet tears Tempe vale tender thee thou thrill thro to-day to-night toppling towers Twenty-four years ago twilight virelay Wabash warm wild winds wine wraith
人気のある引用
124 ページ - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted...
125 ページ - There is no death ! What seems so is transition : This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
150 ページ - And tears of melancholy Were things that now are not; Then love would kneel to duty. And all the world would seem A bridal bower of beauty, A dream within a dream. If men would cease to worry. And women cease to sigh. And all be glad to bury Whatever has to die; If neighbor spake to neighbor. As love demands of all. The rust would eat the sabre. The spear stay on the wall ; Then every day would glisten. And every eye would shine. And God would pause to listen. And life would be divine.
125 ページ - Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
192 ページ - GAZED upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, 'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June, When brooks send up a cheerful tune, And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make, The rich, green mountain turf should break...
149 ページ - If all who hate would love us. And all our loves were true, The stars that swing above us Would brighten in the blue; If cruel words were kisses. And every scowl a smile, A better world than this is. Would hardly be worth while. If purses would not tighten To meet a brother's need, The load we bear would lighten Above the grave of greed.
76 ページ - It stands all alone like a goblin in gray, The old-fashioned inn of a pioneer day, In a land so forlorn and forgotten, it seems Like a wraith of the past rising into our dreams; Its glories have vanished, and only the ghost Of a sign-board now creaks on its desolate post, Recalling a time when all hearts were akin As they rested at night in that welcoming Inn.
77 ページ - ... set in from the west The mirth of the landlord was broadest and best, And the stranger who paused, over night, never knew If the clock on the mantel struck ten or struck two. Oh, the songs they would sing, and the tales they would spin, As they lounged in the light of the old country inn. But a day came at last when the stage brought no load To the gate, as it rolled up the long, dusty road.
229 ページ - A sipping only of the sweets, and skipping all the sours; A button-headed roustabout, a lover light and bold, "Who revels on the ripest lips that mortal eyes behold; Who clambers up the softest cheek, and up the whitest arm. And loiters on the fairest breast that ever love made warm; Then throw the shutters open wide, and lift the windows high, Let out the silence and the gloom, let in the jolly fly.
217 ページ - Tho' the future may. flout them and scout them, The world had been sadder without them; Tho' they rest in their graves without glory, Tho' they live not in song nor in story, No prophet — no priest — had a mission More sacred thro' all the dumb years Than that of the old-time physician, Whose dust we bedew with our tears.