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Página 1 - The hills Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun; the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods; rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
Página 9 - And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer. Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane, most catholic and solemn , Which God hath planned. To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; Its choir the winds and waves, — its organ thunder, — Its dome the sky.
Página 8 - Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares, To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood And view the haunts of Nature. The calm shade Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm To thy sick heart.
Página 37 - ... and action, at once extensive, earnest, and enduring, have arisen between the deceased and many of us. For myself, sir, it gives me a deep-felt, though melancholy satisfaction, to know, and more so, to be conscious, that the deceased also felt and acknowledged, that our political differences have been wholly free from that most venomous and corroding of all poisons, personal hatred.
Página 19 - There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night ! And grief may bide, an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light. And thou, who o'er thy friend's low bier Sheddest the bitter drops like rain, Hope that a brighter, happier sphere Will give him to thy arms again.
Página 49 - tis said) Before was never made But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set And the well-balanced world on hinges hung; And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.
Página 17 - Is it well with thee ? is it well with thy husband ? is it well with the child ? And she answered, It is well.
Página 40 - Man, thou shalt never die !" Celestial voices Hymn it unto our souls : according harps, By angel fingers touched when the mild stars Of morning sang together, sound forth still The song of our great immortality...
Página 73 - Kind words, remembered voices once so sweet, Smiles, radiant long ago, And features, the great soul's apparent seat. All shall come back; each tie Of pure affection shall be knit again; Alone shall Evil die, And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign. And then shall I behold Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung, And her, who, still and cold, Fills the next grave— the beautiful and young.