The Young Bankrupt, and Other Stories

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London, 1883 - 127 頁
 

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第 99 頁 - Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple, Who have faith in God and Nature, Who believe, that in all ages Every human heart is human, That in even savage bosoms There are longings, yearnings, strivings, For the good they comprehend not, That the feeble hands and helpless, Groping blindly in the darkness, Touch God's right hand in that darkness And are lifted up and strengthened...
第 20 頁 - They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.
第 111 頁 - Ah my God, What might I not have made of thy fair world, Had I but loved thy highest creature here? It was my duty to have loved the highest : It surely was my profit had I known : It would have been my pleasure had I seen. We needs must love the highest when we see it, Not Lancelot, nor another.
第 9 頁 - SWEET AUBURN! loveliest village of the plain; Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed : Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene...
第 102 頁 - Heavy-wet, this can and does ! Thou art the thrall not of Cedric the Saxon, but of thy own brutal appetites and this scoured dish of liquor. And thou pratest of thy " liberty " ? Thou entire blockhead ! Heavy-wet and gin: alas, these are not the only kinds of thraldom.
第 30 頁 - Woe unto him that giveth his neighbour drink, that puttest thy bottle to him, and makest him drunken also, that thou mayest look on their nakedness!
第 111 頁 - Well, thy earthly path was peaceabler, I suppose. But the Highest was never in thee, the Highest will never come out of thee. Thou shalt at best abide by the stuff; as cherished housedog, guard the stuff, — perhaps with...
第 67 頁 - What though unmarked the happy workman toil, And break unthanked of man the stubborn clod ? It is enough, for sacred is the soil, Dear are the hills of God. Far better in its place the lowliest bird Should sing aright to Him the lowliest song, Than that a seraph strayed should take the word And sing his glory wrong.
第 78 頁 - Out in the gloomy night, sadly I roam, I have no mother dear, no pleasant home ; Nobody cares for me, no one would cry Even if poor little Bessie should die.
第 78 頁 - Mother, oh ! why did you leave me alone, With no one to love me, no friends and no home ? Dark is the night, and the storm rages wild, God pity Bessie, the drunkard's lone child.

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