. Our Sunday book of reading and pictures . ow to unite, and now to separate them, SIR BULWER LYTTON. The ceaseless rain is falling fast, And yonder gilded vane,Immoveable for three days past, Points to the misty main. It drives me in upon myself, And to the fireside gleams,To pleasant books that crowd my shelf, And still more pleasant dreams. I read whatever bards have sung Of lands beyond the sea;And the bright days when I was young Come thronging back to me. In fancy I can hear again The Alpine torrents mule-bells on the hills of Spain The sea at Elsinore. I see the convents gleami
. Our Sunday book of reading and pictures . ow to unite, and now to separate them, SIR BULWER LYTTON. The ceaseless rain is falling fast, And yonder gilded vane,Immoveable for three days past, Points to the misty main. It drives me in upon myself, And to the fireside gleams,To pleasant books that crowd my shelf, And still more pleasant dreams. I read whatever bards have sung Of lands beyond the sea;And the bright days when I was young Come thronging back to me. In fancy I can hear again The Alpine torrents mule-bells on the hills of Spain The sea at Elsinore. I see the convents gleaming wallRise from its groves of pine. And towers of old cathedrals castles by the Rhine. I journey on by park and spire, Beneath centennial fields with poppies all on fire. And crleams of distant seas. TRA VELS B Y THE FIRESIDE. I feel no more the dust and heat, No more I feel fatigue,While journeying with anothers feet Oer many a lengthening league. Let others traverse sea and land,And toil through various climes. 53. I turn the world round with my hand,Reading these poets rhymes. From them I learn whatever lies Beneath each changing see, when looking with their eyes, Better than with mine own. H. W. LONGFELLOW. [ 54 ] It was Sunday, and therefore we saw Bergen in her braws ; and a more orderly,douce population I never wish to come across. Not the sign of anything thatwas not decent, man or woman, No such thing as a rough ; no such thing as acad ; no such thing as an offensive snob. But the queerest little boys I everbeheld, all in knickerbockers and little round hats. They were all exactly thesame, like little round Dutchmen cut in half, with the most enormous little legs Iever saw on little boys. Had these been the days of the Danish and Hebrideanwars, I should have imagined my old gillie, John MLean, had made a foray onNorway, and had married several of the Bergen belles; for I never saw legsanywhere else so like his own. There were a good man
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Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, booksubjectenglishliterature
