A WEEK ON THE CONCORD AND MERRIMACK RIVERS

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Página 502 - Still roll ; where all the aspects of misery Predominate; whose strong effects are such As he must bear, being powerless to redress; And that unless above himself he can Erect himself, how poor a thing is man...
Página 18 - By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set today a votive stone; That memory may their deed redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
Página 92 - DO not do unto others as you would that they should do unto you.
Página 130 - And who, in time, knows whither we may vent The treasure of our tongue, to what strange shores This gain of our best glory shall be sent, T' enrich unknowing nations with our stores? What worlds in th' yet unformed Occident May come refined with th
Página 233 - Camelot ; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro...
Página 60 - A man that looks on glass, On it may stay his eye ; Or if he pleaseth, through it pass, And then the heaven espy. All may of Thee partake : Nothing can be so mean, Which with this tincture (for Thy sake) Will not grow bright and clean. A servant with this clause Makes drudgery divine : Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, Makes that and th
Página 465 - And what's a life ? a weary pilgrimage, Whose glory in one day doth fill the stage With childhood, manhood, and decrepit age. And what's a life ? the flourishing array Of the proud summer meadow, which to-day Wears her green plush, and is to-morrow hay.
Página 521 - Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range, Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change. Through the shadow of the globe we sweep into the younger day: Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
Página 506 - I'm fixed. A nosegay which Time clutched from out Those fair Elysian fields, With weeds and broken stems, in haste, Doth make the rabble rout That waste The day he yields. And here I bloom for a short hour unseen, Drinking my juices up, With no root in the land To keep my branches green, But stand In a bare cup.
Página 317 - t is, and scrupulous care, To place my gains beyond the reach of tides, Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, Which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, They scorn the strand who sail upon the sea, Yet oft I think the ocean they 've sailed o'er Is deeper known upon the strand to me.

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