The American Monthly Review of Reviews, Том 18

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Review of Reviews, 1898

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Страница 201 - How humble, yet how hopeful, -he could be; How, in good fortune and in ill, the same; Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he, Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame.
Страница 409 - We are unalterably opposed to every measure calculated to debase our currency or impair the credit of our country. We are, therefore, opposed to the free coinage of silver, except by international agreement with the leading commercial nations of the world, which we pledge ourselves to promote, and until such agreement can be obtained the existing gold standard must be preserved.
Страница 201 - He went about his work — such work as few Ever had laid on head, and heart, and hand — As one who knows, where...
Страница 201 - You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier! • You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace, Broad for the self-complacent British sneer, His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face, His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair. His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease, His lack of all we prize as debonair, Of power or will to shine, of art to please!
Страница 201 - Yes: he had lived to shame me from my sneer, To lame my pencil, and confute my pen; To make me own this hind of princes peer, This rail-splitter a true-born king of men.
Страница 436 - ONE feast, of holy days the crest, I, though no Churchman, love to keep, All-Saints, — the unknown good that rest In God's still memory folded deep ; The bravely dumb that did their deed, And scorned to blot it with a name, Men of the plain heroic breed, That loved Heaven's silence more than fame.
Страница 201 - Such were the needs that helped his youth to train: Rough culture — but such trees large fruit may bear If but their stocks be of right girth and grain.
Страница 202 - We severed have been too long : Now let us have done with a worn-out tale, The tale of an ancient wrong. And our friendship last long as love doth last, and be stronger than death is strong.
Страница 99 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Страница 65 - Liberal party ; and that, at the age of sixty-five, and after forty-two years of a laborious public life, I think myself entitled to retire on the present opportunity. This retirement is dictated to me by my personal views as to the best method of spending the closing years of my life.