See America First

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Regan Printing House, 1922 - Travel - 378 pages

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Page 236 - Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
Page 42 - There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it : I have killed many : I have fully glutted my vengeance : for my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear.
Page 324 - Sweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Page 316 - THE breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed ; And the heavy night hung dark, The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Page 296 - I cannot say, and I will not say That he is dead. He is just away! With a cheery smile and a wave of the hand He has wandered into an unknown land And left us dreaming how very fair It needs must be, since he lingers there...
Page 316 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came, Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame. Not as the flying come, In silence, and in fear ; They shook the depths of the desert's gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Page 83 - Under his spurning feet, the road Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, And the landscape sped away behind Like an ocean flying before the wind; And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire; But, lo!
Page 218 - But ah! what once has been shall be no more! The groaning earth in travail and in pain Brings forth its races, but does not restore, And the dead nations never rise again.
Page 83 - And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because The sight of the master compelled it to pause. With foam and with dust the black charger was gray; By the flash of his eye and the red nostril's play He seemed to the whole great army to say, "I have brought you Sheridan all the way From Winchester down to save the day!
Page 152 - But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, its bloom is shed ; Or like the snowfall in the river, A moment white — then melts forever ; Or like the b'orealis race, That flit ere you can point their place ; Or like the rainbow's lovely form Evanishing amid the storm. Nae man can tether time or tide : The hour approaches Tam maun ride — That hour o...

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