Uncle Ralph, by the author of 'Dorothy'.

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49. lappuse - STREW on her roses, roses. And never a spray of yew ! In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that I did too ! Her mirth the world required ; She bathed it in smiles of glee, But her heart was tired, tired, And now they let her be. Her life was turning, turning, In mazes of heat and sound. But for peace her soul was yearning, And now peace laps her round.
161. lappuse - Often rebuked, yet always back returning To those first feelings that were born with me, And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning For idle dreams of things which cannot be : To-day, I will seek not the shadowy region ; Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear ; And visions rising, legion after legion, Bring the unreal world too strangely near. I'll walk, but not in old heroic traces, And not in paths of high morality, And not among the half-distinguished faces, The clouded forms of long-past...
226. lappuse - But the broad light glares and beats, And the shadow flits and fleets And will not let me be ;' And I loathe the squares and streets, And the faces that one meets, Hearts with no love for me...
122. lappuse - Young men, in the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than they can hold; stir more than they can quiet; fly to the end, without consideration of the means...
98. lappuse - My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead...
162. lappuse - The life of him that dependeth on another man's table is not to be counted for a life ; For he polluteth himself with other men's meat: But a wise man well nurtured will beware thereof.
274. lappuse - O we will walk this world, Yoked in all exercise of noble end, And so thro' those dark gates across the wild That no man knows. Indeed I love thee : come, Yield thyself up : my hopes and thine are one : Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself; Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me.
122. lappuse - Men of age object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and seldom drive business home to the full period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of success.
70. lappuse - Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never : Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.
258. lappuse - Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change? That's hardest. If to conquer love, has tried, To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove; For grief indeed is love and grief beside. Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love. Yet love me — wilt thou? Open thine heart wide, And fold within the wet wings of thy dove.

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