THE MOST EXTENSIVE
ON THE INTERNET
A man who attempts to read all the new productions must do as the flea does,--skip.
Across the threshold led,
And every tear kissed off as soon as shed,
His house she enters, there to be a light,
Shining within, when all without is night;
A guardian angel o'er his life presiding,
Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing!
Almost all men are over-anxious. No sooner do they enter the world than they lose that taste for natural and simple pleasures so remarkable in early life. Every hour do they ask themselves what progress they have made in the pursuit of wealth or honor; and on they go as their fathers went before them, till, weary and sick at heart, they look back with a sigh of regret to the golden time of their childhood.
As pure in thought as angels are, to know her was to love her.
But the day is spent;
And stars are kindling in the firmament,
To us how silent--though like ours, perchance,
Busy and full of life and circumstance.
Every day a little life, a blank to be inscribed with gentle thoughts.
Example is a motive of very prevailing force on the actions of men.
Feeling hearts--touch them but lightly--pour
A thousand melodies unheard before.
Generous as brave,
Affection, kindness, and the sweet offices
Of love and duty, were to him as needful
As his daily bread.
Her tea she sweetens, as she sips, with scandal.
Her tears her only eloquence.
It doesn't much signify whom one marries, for one is sure to find next morning that it was someone else.
Kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire,
As summer clouds flash forth electric fire.
Looks that asked, yet dared not hope relief.
Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain,
Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain;
Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise!
Each stamps its image as the other flies!
Man to the last is but a froward child;
So eager for the future, come what may,
And to the present so insensible.
Not dead, but gone before.
Sweet memory, wafted by the gentle gale,
Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail,
To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours,
Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.
That mute eloquence which passeth speech.
The holy calm that leads to heavenly musing.
The hour arrives, the moment wish'd and fear'd,
The child is born by many a pang endear'd
And now the mother's ear has caught his cry;
O grant the cherub to her asking eye!
He comes--she clasps him. To her bosom press'd
He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest.
The village church, among the trees,
Where first our marriage-vows were given,
With merry peals shall swell the breeze,
And point with taper spire to heaven.
Then gathering 'round his bed, they climb to share
His kisses and with gentle violence there,
Break in upon a dream not half so fair.
Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, and place and time are subject to thy sway.
Through the wide world he only is alone who lives not for another.
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