The Holmes Birthday BookHoughton, Mifflin, 1889 - 407 pages |
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Page 13
Oliver Wendell Holmes. Alexander Hamilton , 1757 ; Bayard Taylor , 1825 . JANUARY 12 . John Winthrop , 1588 ; Samuel Langdon , 1723 ; John Han- cock , 1737 . Every word we speak is the medal of a dead 13 JANUARY II .
Oliver Wendell Holmes. Alexander Hamilton , 1757 ; Bayard Taylor , 1825 . JANUARY 12 . John Winthrop , 1588 ; Samuel Langdon , 1723 ; John Han- cock , 1737 . Every word we speak is the medal of a dead 13 JANUARY II .
Page 14
Oliver Wendell Holmes. Every word we speak is the medal of a dead thought or feeling , struck in the die of some hu- man experience , worn smooth by innumerable con- tacts , and always transferred warm from one to another . By words we ...
Oliver Wendell Holmes. Every word we speak is the medal of a dead thought or feeling , struck in the die of some hu- man experience , worn smooth by innumerable con- tacts , and always transferred warm from one to another . By words we ...
Page 34
... dead ! We have been younger , so they say , But let the seasons roll , He doth not lack an almanac Whose youth is in his soul . The snows may clog life's iron track , But does the axle tire , While bearing swift through bank and drift ...
... dead ! We have been younger , so they say , But let the seasons roll , He doth not lack an almanac Whose youth is in his soul . The snows may clog life's iron track , But does the axle tire , While bearing swift through bank and drift ...
Page 80
... dead man's hand cures swellings , if laid on them . There is nothing like the dead cold hand of the Past to take down our tumid egotism and lead us into the solemn flow of the life of our race . Rousseau came out of one of his sad self ...
... dead man's hand cures swellings , if laid on them . There is nothing like the dead cold hand of the Past to take down our tumid egotism and lead us into the solemn flow of the life of our race . Rousseau came out of one of his sad self ...
Page 90
... Oh , for our vanished Orpheus once again ! The shadowy silence hears us call in vain ! His lips are hushed ; his song shall never die . OUR DEAD SINGER . H. W. L. March 24 , 1882 . P. S. de Laplace , 1749 . MARCH 24 . 90 MARCH 23 .
... Oh , for our vanished Orpheus once again ! The shadowy silence hears us call in vain ! His lips are hushed ; his song shall never die . OUR DEAD SINGER . H. W. L. March 24 , 1882 . P. S. de Laplace , 1749 . MARCH 24 . 90 MARCH 23 .
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Common terms and phrases
angel APRIL APRIL 24 AUGUST AUTOCRAT beneath BENJAMIN APTHORP GOULD bloom brain BREAKFAST-TABLE breast breath bright burn Charles comes dark DAYS IN EUROPE dear DECEMBER DECEMBER 24 divine dream earth Edward ELSIE VENNER eyes FEBRUARY FEBRUARY 18 flame flowers genius George glow golden green grow hand HARVARD ANNIVERSARY hear heart heaven Henry human HUNDRED DAYS James JANUARY JANUARY 14 John JULY JULY 24 JUNE JUNE 14 kindling leaves life's light lips living look Lord MARCH MARCH 24 memory mind morning mortal Nature never NOVEMBER NOVEMBER 26 o'er ocean OCTOBER OCTOBER 24 poem POET POETRY PROFESSOR RALPH WALDO EMERSON RHYMED LESSON SEASONS SEPTEMBER SEPTEMBER 24 shadows shining sings smile snow soft song soul stream summer sweet talk tell thee thine things Thomas thou thought verse voice walls warm waves William words young
Popular passages
Page 4 - I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving: To reach the port of heaven, we must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it, — but we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor.
Page 32 - I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the...
Page 50 - Sun of our life, thy quickening ray Sheds on our path the glow of day; Star of our hope, thy softened light Cheers the long watches of the night.
Page 316 - LITTLE I ask ; my wants are few ; I only wish a hut of stone, (A very plain brown stone will do,) That I may call my own ; — And close at hand is such a one, in yonder street that fronts the sun. Plain food is quite enough for me ; Three courses are as good as ten ; — If .Nature can subsist on three, Thank Heaven for three.
Page 342 - Tic-tac ! tic-tac ! go the wheels of thought ; our will cannot stop them ; they cannot stop themselves ; sleep cannot still them ; madness only makes them go faster ; death alone can break into the case, and, seiz> ing the ever-swinging pendulum, which we call the heart, silence at last the clicking of the terrible escapement we have carried so long beneath our wrinkled foreheads.
Page 342 - O Love Divine, that stooped to share Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear, On Thee we cast each earthborn care, We smile at pain while Thou art near 1 Though long the weary way we tread, And sorrow crown each lingering year, No path we shun, no darkness dread, Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near...
Page 186 - Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did ; " and so, if I might be judge, " God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
Page 132 - CLEAR the brown path, to meet his coulter's gleam ! Lo ! on he comes, behind his smoking team, With toil's bright dew-drops on his sunburnt brow, The lord of earth, the hero of the plough...
Page 182 - Hnw they surged above the breastwork, as a sea breaks over a deck ; How, driven, yet scarce defeated, our worn-out men retreated, With their powder-horns all emptied, like the swimmers from a wreck...
Page 2 - Deal gently with us, ye who read ! Our largest hope is unfulfilled, — The promise still outruns the deed, — The tower, but not the spire, we build. Our whitest pearl we never find ; Our ripest fruit we never reach ; The flowering moments of the mind Drop half their petals in our speech.