Recollections of a Busy LifeJ.B. Ford and Company, 1868 - 624 ˹éÒ Autobiographical reminiscences of Horace Greeley which form a record of the inner life and inspiration of one who actively shared in the many strange intellectual and political phases through which America went during years of intense vitality. Horace Greeley himself gives the best indication of their nature: "I shall never write anything else into which I shall put so much of myself, my experiences, notions, convictions, and modes of thought, as these Recollections. I give, with small reserve, my mental history." |
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˹éÒ 475 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; "Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly: thousands...
˹éÒ 480 - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber: and, More near, from out the Caesars...
˹éÒ 486 - I REMEMBER I REMEMBER, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn : He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day ; But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away...
˹éÒ 492 - Sixteen years old when she died! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name; „, It was not her time to love; beside, Her life had many a hope and aim, Duties enough and little cares, And now was quiet, now astir, Till God's hand beckoned unawares, — And the sweet white brow is all of her.
˹éÒ 492 - No, indeed! for God above Is great to grant, as mighty to make, And creates the love to reward the love: I claim you still, for my own love's sake!
˹éÒ 73 - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be...
˹éÒ 584 - When a man hath taken a wife, and married her, and it come to pass that she find no favour in his eyes, because he hath found some uncleanness in her: then let him write her a bill of divorcement, and give it in her hand, and send her out of his house.
˹éÒ 492 - I have lived (I shall say) so much since then, Given up myself so many times, Gained me the gains of various men, Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes ; Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope, Either I missed or itself missed me...
˹éÒ 480 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent...
˹éÒ 495 - Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth ? Declare, if thou hast understanding.