Historical Celebration of the Town of Brimfield, Hampden County, Mass

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C. W. Bryan Company, printers, 1879 - 487 páginas
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Página 2 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell ; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely ; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy ; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Página 78 - It is therefore ordered, That every township in this jurisdiction, after the Lord hath increased them to the number of fifty householders, shall then forthwith appoint one within their town to teach all such children as shall resort to him to write and read...
Página 41 - If I were an American as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms — never, never, never!
Página 236 - HAPPY the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground ; Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in Summer yield him shade, In Winter fire.
Página 1 - Show me a man who cares no more for one place than another, and I will show you in that same person one who loves nothing but himself. Beware of those who are homeless by choice! You have no hold on a human being whose affections are without a tap-root.
Página 226 - Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, And grasps the skirts of happy chance, And breasts the blows of circumstance, And grapples with his evil star...
Página 226 - To mould a mighty state's decrees, And shape the whisper of the throne; And moving up from high to higher, ' Becomes on Fortune's crowning slope The pillar of a people's hope, The...
Página 78 - ... to the end that learning may not be buried in the graves of our forefathers in church and commonwealth, the Lord assisting our endeavors.
Página 2 - The swifter current that mines its root, Through whose shifting leaves, as you walk the hill, The quivering glimmer of sun and rill With a sudden flash on the eye is thrown, Like the ray that streams from the diamond-stone. Oh, loveliest there the spring days come. With blossoms, and birds, and wild bees...
Página 232 - THERE is a tear for all that die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave ; But nations swell the funeral cry, And Triumph weeps above the brave. For them is Sorrow's purest sigh O'er Ocean's heaving bosom sent : In vain their bones unburied lie, All earth becomes their monument ! A tomb is theirs on every page, An epitaph on every tongue : The present hours, the future age, For them bewail, to them belong. For them the voice...

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