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Page 272 - Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing; To shew that the Lord is upright: he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him.
Page 103 - And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say " To-morrow is Saint Crispian: " Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say " These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Page 228 - His gardens next your admiration call; On every side you look, behold the wall! No pleasing intricacies intervene, No artful wildness to perplex the scene ; Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother, And half the platform just reflects the other.
Page 224 - I speak not, because they are field flowers ; but those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three, that is, burnet, wild thyme, and watermints ; therefore you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.
Page 147 - ORPHAN hours, the year is dead. Come and sigh, come and weep ! Merry hours, smile instead, For the year is but asleep. See, it smiles as it is sleeping, Mocking your untimely weeping.
Page 196 - O call it not fat ! but an indefinable sweetness growing up to it — the tender blossoming of fat, fat cropped in the bud, taken in the shoot, in the first innocence, the cream and quintessence of the child-pig's yet pure food — the lean, no lean, but a kind of animal manna, or rather, fat and lean (if it must be so) so blended and running into each other, that both together make but one ambrosian result or common substance. Behold him while he is
Page 88 - Rests on the hills ; and oh ! how awfully, Into that deep and tranquil firmament, The summits of Auseva rise serene ! The watchman on the battlements partakes The stillness of the solemn hour ; he feels The silence of the earth ; the endless sound Of flowing water soothes him ; and the stars, Which in that brightest moonlight well-nigh quenched.
Page 37 - When he was set down on the judgment seat, his wife sent unto him, saying, Have thou nothing to do with that just man: for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him.
Page 78 - This hempseed with my virgin hand I sow, Who shall my true love be, the crop shall mow.
Page 16 - Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind Their paramours with mutual chirpings find; I early rose, just at the break of day, Before the sun had chased the stars away ; A-field I went, amid the morning dew, To milk my kine (for so should huswives do;) Thee first I spied : and the first swain we see, In spite of fortune shall our true love be.