Sussex Gorse: The Story of a Fight

A. A. Knopf, 1916 - 462 sider
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Side 222 - The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold, the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon. He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him flee, sling-stones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as stubble : he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.
Side 23 - Will he make many supplications unto thee? Will he speak soft words unto thee? Will he make a covenant with thee? Wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?
Side 151 - All honour, and praise, Dominion, and might, To GOD, THREE IN ONE, Eternally be, Who round us hath shed His own marvellous light, And called us from darkness His glory to see. Amen. 259. *' Ye also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.
Side 406 - At the front, to fight the foe, See, the soldier boys are marching And I can no longer stay, Hark, I hear the bugles calling, Good-bye, Dolly Gray!
Side 240 - It lay in a great hush, a great solitude, a quiet beast of power and mystery. It seemed to call to him through the twilight like a love forsaken. There it lay : Boarzell — strong, beautiful, desired, untamed, still his hope, still his battle.
Side 130 - THERE was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell, [Chorus of whistlers.] There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell, And he had a bad wife, as many knew well. [Chorus of whistlers.] Then Satan came to the old man at the plough, — One of your family I must have now.
Side 458 - I've lived to see my heart's desire. I've fought and I've suffered, and I've gone hard and gone rough and gone empty — but I haven't gone in vain. It's all bin worth it. Odiam's great and Boarzell's mine — and when I die . . . well, I've lived so close to the earth all my days that I reckon I shan't be afraid to lie in it at last.
Side 115 - Many times before his death, he told me that if he had it all to do over again, he would do exactly what he did.
Side 4 - churned the soil with his heel, and knew he could conquer it. ... He could plant those thistle-grounds with wheat. . . . Coward! his father was a coward if he shrank from fighting Boarzell. The land could be tamed just as young bulls could be tamed. By craft, by strength, by toughness man could fight the nature of a waste as well as of a beast. Give him Boarzell, and he would have his spade in its red back, just as he would have his ring in a bull's nose
Side 406 - Good-bye, my Blue Bell, Farewell to you ! One last fond look into Your eyes of blue. 'Mid campfires' gleaming 'Mid shot and shell, I will be dreaming Of my own Blue Bell!

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