The Female Prose Writers of America: With Portraits, Biographical Notices, and Specimens of Their Writings

Forsideomslag
E. H. Butler & Company, 1866 - 522 sider
 

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Side 405 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Side 91 - MAN, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.
Side 54 - And trust me, dear, good humour can prevail, When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail. Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll ; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
Side 243 - To struggle through dark ways ; and, when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The Thing became a trumpet, whence he blew Soul-animating strains — alas, too few...
Side 92 - Except ye become as little children, ye cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven.
Side 123 - 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.
Side 92 - ... the sound of feasting and revelry was in his apartments, and the unfed beggar came tottering from his door. But he considered not that the cries of the oppressed were continually entering into the ears of the Most High. And when I knew that this man was once the teachable child that I had loved, the beautiful infant that I had gazed upon with delight, I said in my bitterness, " I have seen an end of all perfection ;" and I laid my mouth in the dust.
Side 452 - Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest I will go; thy people shall be my people and thy God my God.
Side 232 - Ah ! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed, Or the death they bear, The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove With the wings of care; In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, Shall mine cling to thee, Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, It may bring to thee.
Side 185 - I raised the light ; every thing was still and quiet. My child was sleeping, but my woman was awakened by my crying out or jumping on the floor. If ever I felt fear it was at that moment. Seated on the bed, I reflected a few moments — and said aloud : ' I must go to him.' I told the woman I could not sleep and would ride down the road. She appeared in great alarm ; but I merely told her to lock the door after me, and look after the child. I went to the stable, saddled my mare — as fleet and easy...

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