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542 HOFFMAN. —THOMAS. —KEMBLE.

CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN. 1806-1850.

Sparkling and bright in liquid light

Does the wine our goblets gleam in; With hue as red as the rosy bed

Which a bee would choose to dream in.

Sparkling and Bright.

FREDERICK W. THOMAS. 1808 —

'T is said that absence conquers love;

But oh! believe it not.
I 've tried, alas! its power to prove,

But thou art not forgot. Absence conquers Lore.

FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. 1811 —

A sacred burden is this life ye bear:
Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly,
Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly.
Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin,
But onward, upward, till the goal ye win.

Lines addressed to the Young Gentlemen leaving the Lenox
Academy, Mass.

Better trust all, and be deceived,

And weep that trust and that deceiving,

Than doubt one heart, that, if believed,

Had blessed one's life with true believing. Faith. LINCOLN. — PARKER.—NOEL. 543

ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 1809-1865.

That this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.1

Speech at Gettysburg, Nos. 19, 1863.

With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right.

Second Inaugural Addrttt.

THEODORE PARKER. 1810-1860.

There is what I call the American idea This

idea demands, as the proximate organization thereof, a democracy, that is, a government of all the people, by all the people, for all the people; of course, a government of the principles of eternal justice, the unchanging law of God: for shortness' sake I will call it the idea of Freedom.1

Speech at the New England Antislavery Convention,
Boston, May 29, 1850.

THOMAS NOEL.

Rattle his bones over the stones!

He 's only a pauper, whom nobody owns!

The Pauper's Ride.

1 The people's government, made for the people, made by the people, and answerable to the people. — Daniel Webster, Speech, Jan. 2G, 1830.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 1809 .

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!

Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see

That banner in the sky. Old Iroiuidei.

Nail to the mast her holy flag,

Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,

The lightning and the gale! Ibid.

Like Sentinel and Nun, they keep

Their vigil on the green. The Cambridge Churchyard.

The mossy marbles rest
On the lips that he has prest

In their bloom;
And the names he loved to hear
Have been carved for many a year

On the tomb. The Last Leaf.

I know it is a sin
For me to sit and grin

At him here;
But the old three-cornered hat,
And the breeches, and all that,

Are so queer! Ibid.

Thou say'st an undisputed thing

In such a solemn way. To an Iniect.

The freeman casting with unpurchased hand
The vote that shakes the turrets of the land.

Poetry, a Metrical Essay. Their discords sting through Burns and Moore,

Like hedgehogs dressed in lace. The Music-Grinders.

You think they are crusaders, sent

From some infernal clime,
To pluck the eyes of Sentiment,

And dock the tail of Rhyme,
To crack the voice of Melody,

And break the legs of Time. ibid.

And, since, I never dare to write

As funny as I can. The Height of the Ridiculous.

When the last reader reads no more. The Last Reader.

Thine eye was on the center,

And not the hand that bore it. Lines by a Clerk.

Where go the poet's lines?

Answer, ye evening tapers!
Ye auburn locks, ye golden curls,

Speak from your folded papers! . The Poet's Lot.

Yes, child of suffering, thou mayst well be sure.

He who ordained the Sabbath loves the poor! Urania.

And, when you stick on conversation's burrs,

Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful urs. Ibid.

You hear that boy laughing ? — you think he 's all fun;
But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done;
The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,
And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of
all! The Boys.

Boston State-house is the hub of the Solar System.

You could n't pry that out of a Boston man if you had

the tire of all creation straightened out for a crow-bar.

The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table, p. 143.

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SAMUEL F. SMITH. 1808 .

My country, 't is of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing:
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From every mountain-side

Let freedom ring. National IJymn.

MARK LEMON. 1809-1870.

O, would I were a boy again,

When life seemed formed of sunny years, And all the heart then knew of pain

Was wept away in transient tears!

0, would I were a boy again.

JAMES ALDRICH. 1810-1856.

Her suffering ended with the day,

Yet lived she at its close,
And breathed the long, long night away,

In statue-like repose. A Death-Bed.

But when the sun, in all his state,

Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through glory's morning-gate,

And walked in Paradise. mu.

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