St. Louis Nights Wi' Burns

Predný obal
Kutterer-Jansen printing Company, 1913 - 95 strán (strany)
 

Iné vydania - Zobraziť všetky

Časté výrazy a frázy

Populárne pasáže

Strana 73 - No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. Compared with this, how poor religion's pride, In all the pomp of method, and of art, When men display to congregations wide Devotion's every grace, except the heart!
Strana 87 - To make a happy fire-side clime To weans and wife, That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life.
Strana 88 - But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben ! O wad ye tak a thought an' men' ! Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — Still hae a stake : I'm wae to think upo...
Strana 54 - This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England...
Strana 59 - Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! Its silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's winds ensuin, Baith snell and keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary Winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash!
Strana 15 - Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that ; That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Strana 25 - Thou whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deckt in silken stole, Grave these counsels on thy soul. Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night, — in darkness lost: Hope not sunshine ev'ry hour, Fear not clouds will always lour.
Strana 68 - THAT AND A' THAT" Is there, for honest Poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that! The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a
Strana 28 - Is there a man whose judgment clear, Can others teach the course to steer, Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, Wild as the wave; Here pause — and, thro' the starting tear, Survey this grave.
Strana 13 - mid renewing storms ; Is it departing pangs my soul alarms? Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode? For guilt, for GUILT, my terrors are in arms; I tremble to approach an angry God, And justly smart beneath His sin-avenging rod. Fain would I say,

Bibliografické informácie