Pen and Pencil Pictures

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Hurst and Blackett, 1857 - 337 pages
 

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Page 48 - There is no death ! What seems so is transition : This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Page 244 - ... a lone man's companion, a bachelor's friend, a hungry man's food, a sad man's cordial, a wakeful man's sleep, and a chilly man's fire, sir; while for stanching of wounds, purging of rheum, and settling of the stomach, there's no herb like unto it under the canopy of heaven.
Page 11 - The moon made thy lips pale, beloved The wind made thy bosom chill ; The night did shed On thy dear head Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie Where the bitter breath of the naked sky Might visit thee at will, iii.
Page 1 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here for evermore.
Page 1 - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Page 22 - THEY grew in beauty side by side, They filled one home with glee, Their graves are severed far and wide, By mount, and stream, and sea. The same fond mother bent at night O'er each fair sleeping brow, She had each folded flower in sight— Where are those dreamers now? One midst the...
Page 151 - THERE grew a little flower once, That blossomed in a day, And some said it would ever bloom, And some 'twould fade away ; And some said it was Happiness, And some said it was Spring, And some said it was Grief and Tears, And many such a thing ; But still the little flower bloomed, And still it lived and throve, And men do it call "Summer Growth," But angels call it " Love !
Page 72 - And he stayed yet other seven days; and sent forth the dove; which returned not again unto him any more.
Page 215 - ... and as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead ? he is not here, but is risen.
Page 11 - Our dear heart-jewels and our garlands fair. Perhaps Thou knewest that the flowers would die, And the long-voyaged hoards be found but dust : So took'st them, while unchanged. To Thee we trust For incorruptible treasure : Thou art just.

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