The World's Way: Lays of Life and LabourWilliam P. Nimmo, 1864 - 304 pages |
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Page xv
... weary pilgrimage , " WHY STAND YE HERE ALL THE DAY IDLE ? " The God of Glory walks His round , HOPE AND TRUST . Oh ! sigh not - weep not , if some day , THE PLOUGHMAN . Clear the brown path to meet his coulter's gleam ! " THEY DIED ...
... weary pilgrimage , " WHY STAND YE HERE ALL THE DAY IDLE ? " The God of Glory walks His round , HOPE AND TRUST . Oh ! sigh not - weep not , if some day , THE PLOUGHMAN . Clear the brown path to meet his coulter's gleam ! " THEY DIED ...
Page xvii
... weary hearts , to mourning homes , THANATOPSIS . To him who in the love of Nature holds , TO PRIMROSES , FILL'D WITH MORNING DEW . Why do ye weep , sweet babes ? THE OLD WASHERWOMAN . You busy with the linen see , IDLENESS . Can tears ...
... weary hearts , to mourning homes , THANATOPSIS . To him who in the love of Nature holds , TO PRIMROSES , FILL'D WITH MORNING DEW . Why do ye weep , sweet babes ? THE OLD WASHERWOMAN . You busy with the linen see , IDLENESS . Can tears ...
Page 3
... weary strife of frail humanity ! There are who seek not if thine eye Be on them ; who , in love and truth , Where no misgiving is , rely Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad hearts without reproach or blot ; Who do thy work , and know ...
... weary strife of frail humanity ! There are who seek not if thine eye Be on them ; who , in love and truth , Where no misgiving is , rely Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad hearts without reproach or blot ; Who do thy work , and know ...
Page 18
... for rest Until thy task be done ; Thou must not lay thy burthen down Till setting of the sun . Thou must not weary of the life , Nor scorn 18 SONGS OF LIFE AND LABOUR . TO A WEARIED WORKER PAGE "Rest!"-thou must not seek for rest,
... for rest Until thy task be done ; Thou must not lay thy burthen down Till setting of the sun . Thou must not weary of the life , Nor scorn 18 SONGS OF LIFE AND LABOUR . TO A WEARIED WORKER PAGE "Rest!"-thou must not seek for rest,
Page 19
Lays of Life and Labour. Thou must not weary of the life , Nor scorn thy lowly lot , Nor cease to work , because such work Thy neighbour prizeth not . Thou must not let thy heart grow cold , Nor hush each generous tone , Nor veil the ...
Lays of Life and Labour. Thou must not weary of the life , Nor scorn thy lowly lot , Nor cease to work , because such work Thy neighbour prizeth not . Thou must not let thy heart grow cold , Nor hush each generous tone , Nor veil the ...
Common terms and phrases
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER American angel Arouse thee beauty beneath bird bless blest bliss bosom brave breast breath bright brow calm cheer cloud crown dark darkest hour death despair doth dreams e'er earth ELIZA COOK eternal fair fame fate fear flow flowers frae gloom glory glow golden grief hand happiness hath heart heaven holy honour hope hour humble idle ilka JAMES BALLANTINE JOHN CRITCHLEY KATHARINE PHILIPS labour life's light live Look man's mind morning ne'er Never yield night nonny o'er pain peace Ploughshare poor red planet Mars rest rich RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES ROBERT POLLOK ROBERT SOUTHEY round shade shadows shine sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spin star strive sweet content tears thine things THOMAS PARNELL thou art thou hast thought to-day To-morrow toil truth voice wealth weary weep WILLIAM COWPER wind wise youth
Popular passages
Page 222 - All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
Page 185 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Page 220 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Page 25 - And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Page 95 - Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace : » Referring to the obsequies for the dead.
Page 223 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Page 3 - There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad hearts ! without reproach or blot Who do thy work, and know it not: Oh ! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power!
Page 31 - Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest — Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
Page 139 - Like to the falling of a star; Or as the flights of eagles are; Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue; Or silver drops of morning dew; Or like a wind that chafes the flood; Or bubbles which on water stood; Even such is man, whose borrowed light Is straight called in, and paid to night. The wind blows out; the bubble dies; The spring entombed in autumn lies; The dew dries up; the star is shot; The flight is past; and man forgot.
Page 271 - O poor man's son ! scorn not thy state ; There is worse weariness than thine, In merely being rich and great ; Toil only gives the soul to shine, And makes rest fragrant and benign ; A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being poor to hold in fee. Both, heirs to some six feet of sod, Are equal in the earth at last; Both, children of the same dear God, Prove title to your heirship vast By record of a well-filled past ; A heritage, it seems to me, Well worth a life to hold in fee. THE ROSE: A BALLAD IN...