Lily Bell: Or, The Lost ChildJ. French, 1857 - 343 стор. |
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agin ain't Aunt Hitty Aunty beautiful Betsy better bless carriage CHAPTER child church cried Deacon dear delight did'nt dreadful Edmonds enquired Lily Estelle Eustace eyes face father feel George George Bell Gilt Edges girl glanced hand happy head heard heart heaven heerd Herbert hope husband Jemmie John Brown Joseph Arnold Keturah kiss knew lady laughing light Lily's live lonely look Lydia White married mind Miss Dobson Miss Lydia Miss Pry Miss White morning mother N. P. WILLIS Nature never papa Peg Sampson poor pretty reckon replied Lily Sally Dobson Scrubbin seated seemed shawl side smile sorrow soul speak sure sure as fate sweet Taylor tears tell Tempy there's thing thought truth Uncle Joseph Vermont Widder Widow Bell wife woman word would'nt young Zekiel
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Сторінка 112 - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
Сторінка 310 - The motion of a hidden fire, That trembles in the breast. Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear; The upward glancing of the eye, When none but God is near.
Сторінка 230 - Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, And dies among his worshippers.
Сторінка 9 - Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet than all other? Alas! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh! it was pitiful! Near a whole city full Home she had none.
Сторінка 62 - For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the pathway, Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in darkness.
Сторінка 150 - Her gentle tone comes stealing by — And years, and sin, and manhood flee, And leave me at my mother's knee. The book of nature, and the print Of beauty on the whispering sea, Give aye to me some lineament Of what I have been taught to be. My heart is harder, and perhaps My- manliness hath drunk up tears ; And there's a mildew in the lapse Of a few swift and chequer'd years — But nature's book is even yet With all my mother's lessons writ.
Сторінка 51 - Thrice happy he! who on the sunless side Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd, Beneath the whole collected shade reclines: Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought, And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting streams, Sits coolly calm; while all the world without, Unsatisfied^ and sick, tosses in noon.
Сторінка 26 - We sacrifice to dress, till household joys And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry And keeps our larder lean ; puts out our fires ; And introduces hunger, frost, and woe, Where peace and hospitality might reign.
Сторінка 10 - Let my sins be all forgiven, Bless the friends I love so well ; Take me when I die to heaven, Happy there with Thee to dwell.
Сторінка 240 - A boat at midnight sent alone To drift upon the moonless sea, A lute, whose leading chord is gone, A wounded bird, that hath but one Imperfect wing to soar upon, Are like what I am, without thee...