The Doolittle Family in America, Volumes 4-7

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Press of National Printing Company, 1904 - 1350 pages
 

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Page 352 - Their written words we linger o'er. But in the sun they cast no shade., No voice is heard, no sign is made, No step is on the conscious floor! Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust (Since He who knows our need is just), That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Page 704 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Page 650 - As some divinely gifted man, Whose life in low estate began And on a simple village green ; Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, And grasps the skirts of happy chance, And breasts the blows of circumstance, And grapples with his evil star; Who makes by force his merit known And lives to clutch the golden keys, To mould a mighty state's decrees, And shape the whisper of the throne...
Page 708 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Page 352 - Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play! Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, The truth to flesh and sense unknown, That Life is ever lord of Death, And Love can never lose its own!
Page 352 - Henceforward, listen as we will, The voices of that hearth are still; Look where we may, the wide earth o'er Those lighted faces smile no more. We tread the paths their feet have worn, We sit beneath their orchard trees, We hear, like them, the hum of bees And rustle of the bladed corn...
Page 593 - They do me wrong who say I come no more When once I knock and fail to find you in; For every day I stand outside your door And bid you wake and rise to fight and win.
Page 649 - Proud names, who once the reins of empire held ; In arms who triumph'd, or in arts excell'd ; Chiefs, grac'd with scars, and prodigal of blood; Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood ; Just men, by whom impartial laws were given ; And saints who taught, and led, the way to Heaven...
Page 724 - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, And glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.
Page 472 - Thou shalt come to thy grave in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in in his season.

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