Sketches of Prominent Citizens of 1876: With a Few of the Pioneers of the City and County who Have Passed Away

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Tilford & Carlon, printers, 1877 - Indianapolis (Ind.) - 572 pages
 

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Page 466 - That hangs his head, and a' that! The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that! For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The Man's the gowd for a
Page 116 - O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white — then melts for ever; Or like the borealis 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...
Page 43 - Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side ; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all.
Page 65 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Page 442 - O, wad some Power the giftie gie us to see oursels as others see us! It wad frae monie a blunder free us an' foolish notion: what airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, and ev'n Devotion!
Page 1 - Though I, once gone, to all the world must die : The earth can yield me but a common grave. When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read ; And tongues to be, your being shall rehearse, When all the breathers of this world are dead ; You still shall live (such virtue hath my pen) Where breath most breathes, — even in the mouths of men.
Page 178 - Thou shalt come to thy grave in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in in his season.
Page 402 - That night, a child might understand, The de'il had business on his hand. Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tarn skelpit on thro' dub and mire, Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet; Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles glow'ring round wi...
Page 364 - tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the...
Page 153 - The dead are like the stars by day ; Withdrawn from mortal eye, But, not extinct, they hold their way In glory through the sky : Spirits from bondage thus set free Vanish amidst immensity, Where human thought, like human sight, Fails to pursue their trackless flight.

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