The Recreations of a Country Parson. Second Series |
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Page 22
... passes quietly away . It will be briefly comprehended on his tombstone , in the assurance that he did his duty , simply and faithfully , through so many years . It is somewhat monotonous , but he is too busy to weary of it : it is ...
... passes quietly away . It will be briefly comprehended on his tombstone , in the assurance that he did his duty , simply and faithfully , through so many years . It is somewhat monotonous , but he is too busy to weary of it : it is ...
Page 24
... pass to my successor ( may he be a better man ! ) ; and when I shall perhaps find my resting - place under those ancient oaks . Nor have I wholly failed to remember a coming day , when bishops and archbishops shall be called to render ...
... pass to my successor ( may he be a better man ! ) ; and when I shall perhaps find my resting - place under those ancient oaks . Nor have I wholly failed to remember a coming day , when bishops and archbishops shall be called to render ...
Page 29
... passing the rustic gateway through which you approach that quaint cottage on the knoll two hundred yards off - one story high , with deep thatch , steep gables , overhanging eaves , and verandah of rough oak a sweet little place , where ...
... passing the rustic gateway through which you approach that quaint cottage on the knoll two hundred yards off - one story high , with deep thatch , steep gables , overhanging eaves , and verandah of rough oak a sweet little place , where ...
Page 43
... passing fancy of the moment , whether you shall be said to have done delightfully or disgustingly ; whether you shall be said to have made a brilliant figure , or to have made a fool of yourself . You never can be sure , though you ...
... passing fancy of the moment , whether you shall be said to have done delightfully or disgustingly ; whether you shall be said to have made a brilliant figure , or to have made a fool of yourself . You never can be sure , though you ...
Page 46
... pass a wretched row of cot- tages on his estate daily for years , yet never think of making an effort to improve them : who , when the thing is fairly put to him , will forthwith bestir himself to have things brought into a better state ...
... pass a wretched row of cot- tages on his estate daily for years , yet never think of making an effort to improve them : who , when the thing is fairly put to him , will forthwith bestir himself to have things brought into a better state ...
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Popular passages
Page 174 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Page 110 - tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music ! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it. And hark ! how blithe the throstle sings ! He, too, is no mean preacher: Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your Teacher.
Page 128 - There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove ; Now drooping, woful, wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.
Page 226 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumor of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more...
Page 412 - Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows. "And here, on this delightful day, I cannot choose but think How oft, a vigorous man, I lay Beside this fountain's brink. "My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard.
Page 187 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more.
Page 295 - Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress; That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness.
Page 329 - O that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest — Ps.
Page 122 - And labours hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labour or of skill I would be busy too: For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play Let my first years be past, That I may give for every day Some good account at last.
Page 305 - From the lone shieling of the misty island Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas — Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland, And we in dreams behold the Hebrides : Fair these broad meads, &c.