Wheat and Tares: A Tale

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Saunders, Otley, 1861 - 411 pages

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Page 399 - O World ! O life ! O time ! On whose last steps I climb, Trembling at that where I had stood before, When will return the glory of your prime ? No more oh never more ! Out of the day and night A joy has taken flight ; Fresh Spring, and Summer, and Winter hoar, Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight No more oh never more!
Page 164 - A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye ; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer sky...
Page 307 - On Tuesday last A falcon towering in her pride of place Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed.
Page 351 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Page 296 - I smile, And cry, Content, to that which grieves my heart ; And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Page 252 - Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands ; Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach : Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love : now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe Upon a dwarfish thief.
Page 229 - Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown ! What dreadful noise of water in mine ears ! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes...
Page 63 - Combien de temps une pensée, Vierge obscure, attend son époux! Les sots la traitent d'insensée; Le sage lui dit: Cachez-vous. Mais la rencontrant loin du monde, Un fou, qui croit au lendemain, L'épouse; elle devient féconde Pour le bonheur du genre humain.
Page 263 - Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self. There was a listening fear in her regard, As if calamity had but begun; As if the vanward clouds of evil days Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear 40 Was with its stored thunder labouring up.
Page 319 - In youth they conquer with so wild a rage, As leaves them scarce a subject in their age: For foreign glory, foreign joy, they roam; No thought of peace or happiness at home. But wisdom's triumph is well-timed retreat, As hard a science to the fair as great!

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