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50 cents 75 cents amid appear beautiful believe better blockhead Calvert Vaux Charlotte Brontë cheerful church clergyman clever Cloth coming cottage delight diary dignified doubt dull dwelling enjoy enjoyment entirely essay fact fancy feel fellow felt Fraser's Magazine garden Gelimer George Stephenson give Gothic Gothic archi Gothic architecture green grow old happy heart horse hour human hundred interest kindly labour lady leisure light live look Lord Melbourne matter mental mind moral morning Nathaniel Hawthorne nature never once painful parish petty trickery pigsty play pleasant pleasing pleasure POEMS poor preach putting things quiet reader recreation remember scene Scythia sense sermon stupid sure Sydney Smith talk taste tell thoroughbred thought tidiness tion town trees truth turn Verjuice walk weary worries write wrong young youth
Page 164 - 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 100 - 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 109 - See the wretch, that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again : The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Page 216 - 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 402 - 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 122 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Page 319 - O that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest — Ps.
Page 112 - 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 432 - The sun shall be no more thy light by day; neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee: but the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory.