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according American amongst appears become better body boys called character comes common course deaf dear door doubt dream English eyes face fact fall fear feel fire give gold golden green hand head hear heart hope horse human interest lady learning least leave less light literary literature living look Lord mean mind Miss moral nature never night once party pass perhaps persons play poor present published Quaker remember round seems sense short sort soul sound spirit stand strong suppose sure talk tell thing thought tree true truth turn voice walk wall whole wish write young yure
Page 34 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing ; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high ; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky. It was a childish ignorance, — But now 'tis little joy: To know I'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy ! THOMAS HOOD.
Page 34 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day ; But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! T remember.
Page 26 - Then down I cast me on my face, And first began to weep, For I knew my secret then was one That earth refused to keep : Or land or sea, though he should be Ten thousand fathoms deep.
Page 26 - All night I lay in agony, From weary chime to chime; With one besetting horrid hint That racked me all the time — A mighty yearning, like the first Fierce impulse unto crime — "One stern tyrannic thought, that made All other thoughts its slave! Stronger and stronger every pulse Did that temptation crave — Still urging me to go and see The dead man in his grave!
Page 23 - And, long since then, of bloody men Whose deeds tradition saves; Of lonely folk cut off unseen, And hid in sudden graves ; Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn, And murders done in caves ; And how the sprites of injured men Shriek upward from the sod...
Page 210 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Page 209 - The wounds I might have healed ! The human sorrow and smart ! And yet it never was in my soul To play so ill a part : But evil is wrought by want of Thought, As well as want of Heart...
Page 134 - For over all there hung a cloud of fear, A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted ! PART III.