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Myriads of rivulets hurrying through the lawn,
Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay.
Lady Clara Vere de Vere. From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife
Smile at the claims of long descent.
Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
’T is only noble to be good.
Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood.
Recollections of the Arabian Nights.
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
EDWARD BULWER LYTTON.
Richelieu. Act i. Sc. 2. Beneath the rule of men entirely great The pen is mightier than the sword.
Philip Van Artevelde.
Part i. Act i. Sc. 5.
Act i. Sc. v.
Act i. Sc. v.
We figure to ourselves
Act i. Sc. 7.
PHILLIP JAMES BAILEY.
Festus. We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths ; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
THOMAS K. HERVEY.
The Devil's Progress.
The tomb of him who would have made
The world too glad and free.
He stood beside a cottage lone,
And listened to a lute, One summer's eve, when the breeze was gone,
And the nightingale was mute!
Like ships, that sailed for sunny isles,
But never came to shore !
Her suffering ended with the day,
Yet lived she at its close,
In statue-like repose !
But when the sun, in all his state,
Illumed the eastern skies,
And walked in Paradise.
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
Go forth, under the open sky, and list
Sustained and soothed
With wind and clouds and changing skies;
That through the snowy valley flies.
crimson tree, Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy,
Her blush of maiden shame.
The Death of the Flowers.
The saddest of the year,
And meadows brown and sear.
The eternal years of God are hers;
And dies among his worshippers.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
The hand that rounded Peter's dome,
He builded better than he knew.
Earth proudly wears the Parthenon
Hymn. At the completion of the Concord Monument.
Here once the embattled farmers stood,