The Banker in Literature

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Bankers Publishing Company, 1910 - Bankers - 250 pages

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Page 86 - terrible—the tear, The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier; And all we know, or dream, or fear Of agony, are thine. But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be.
Page 76 - wiles of Art, the grasp of Power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light; And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons arc blest!
Page 75 - shadowy brood thy call obey, And Place and Time are subject to thy sway! Thy pleasures most we feel when most alone; The only pleasures we can call our own. Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die, If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky; If but a beam of sober Reason play, Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away! But can
Page 43 - that portion of the produce of the earth which is paid to the landlord for the use of the original and indestructible powers of the soil.
Page 111 - I waited for the train at Coventry; I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge To watch the three tall spires; and there I shaped The city's legend into this. 'Lord Brougham would not have waited so. He would have rushed up into the town; he would have suggested an improvement, talked the science of the
Page 21 - Thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the exchangers, and then, at my coming, I should have received mine own with usury.
Page 241 - the people shall curse him; but blessing shall be upon the head of him that selleth it. He that trusteth in his riches shall fall; but the righteous shall flourish as a branch.
Page 78 - The very law which moulds a tear, And bids it trickle from its source, That law preserves the earth a sphere And guides the planets in their course. "To the Butterfly
Page 72 - Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green, With magic tints to harmonize the scene. Still'd is the hum that thro' the hamlet broke, When round the ruins of their ancient oak The peasants flock'd to hear the minstrel play, And games and carols closed the busy day. Her wheel at rest, the matron charms no more With
Page 72 - light of heav'n convey'd. The mouldering gateway strews the grass-grown court, Once the calm scene of many a simple sport; When nature pleas'd, for life itself was new, And the heart promis'd what the fancy drew. See, thro' the fractur'd pediment reveal'd, Where moss inlays the rudely sculptur'd shield, The martin's old, hereditary nest. Long may the ruin spare

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