Illinois School Journal: A Monthly Magazine for Teachers and School Officers, Volum 2

Forside
1883

Inni boken

Innhold

Del 1
30
Del 2
62
Del 3
65
Del 4
96
Del 5
97
Del 6
128
Del 7
129
Del 8
164
Del 14
262
Del 15
263
Del 16
301
Del 17
334
Del 18
335
Del 19
366
Del 20
367
Del 21
400

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Side 65 - What was it that moved and held us, the rest of the three hundred reckless, childish boys, who feared the Doctor with all our hearts, and very little besides in heaven or earth : who thought more of our sets...
Side 12 - Their name, their years, spelt by th' unlettered muse, The place of fame and elegy supply ; And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.
Side 65 - ... with all his heart and soul and strength striving against whatever was mean and unmanly and unrighteous in our little world. It was not the cold clear voice of one giving advice and warning from serene heights, to those who were struggling and sinning below, but the warm living voice of one who was fighting for us and by our sides, and calling on us to help him and ourselves and one another.
Side 12 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Side 240 - And make the daylight still a happy thing, And tender voices, to make soft the wind. But if it were not so — if I could find No love in all the world for comforting, Nor any path but hollowly did ring, Where "dust to dust" the love from life disjoined — And if before those sepulchres unmoving I stood alone, (as some forsaken lamb Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth) Crying, " Where are ye, O my loved and loving ? " . . I know a Voice would sound,
Side 240 - ALL are not taken ; there are left behind Living Beloveds, tender looks to bring And make the daylight still a happy thing, And tender voices, to make soft the wind : But if it were not so — if I could find No love in all the world for comforting, Nor any path but hollowly did ring Where "dust to dust...
Side 65 - ... we felt to be, with all his heart and soul and strength, striving against whatever was mean and unmanly and unrighteous in our little world.
Side 61 - There the blackbird bigs his nest For the mate he loes to see, And on the topmost bough...
Side 133 - The work savors of the workman. If the poet sickens, his verse sickens ; if black, venous blood flows to an author's brain, it beclouds his pages ; and the devotions of a consumptive man scent of his disease as Lord Byron's obscenities smell of gin. Not only "lying lips," but a dyspeptic stomach, is an abomination to the Lord.
Side 61 - And love is a' the theme, And he'll woo his bonny lassie When the kye comes hame.

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