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O, Woman! in our hours of ease,Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,And variable as the shadeBy the light quivering aspen made;When pain and anguish wring the brow,A ministering angel thou!
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Each age has deemed the new-born year the fittest time for festal cheer.
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My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
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Many miles away there's a shadow on the door of a cottage on the Shore of a dark Scottish lake.
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Look back, and smile on perils past.
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The stag at eve had drunk his fill,Where danced the moon on Monan's rill,And deep his midnight lair had madeIn lone Glenartney's hazel shade.
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Still are the thoughts to memory dear.
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It's no fish ye're buying, it's men's lives.
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Widowed wife and wedded maid.
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Rouse the lion from his lair.
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That day of wrath, that dreadful day,When heaven and earth shall pass away,What power shall be the sinner's stay?How shall he meet that dreadful day?
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O! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!
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Revenge is the sweetest morsel to the mouth, that ever was cooked in hell.
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With head upraised, and look intent,And eye and ear attentive bent,And locks flung back, and lips apart,Like monument of Grecian art,In listening mood, she seemed to stand,The guardian Naiad of the strand.
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To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
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England was merry England, whenOld Christmas brought his sports again.‘Twas Christmas broach’d the mightiest ale;‘Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;A Christmas gambol oft could cheerThe poor man’s heart through half the year.
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Stood for his country’s glory fast,And nail’d her colours to the mast!
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Heap on more wood!-the wind is chill;But let it whistle as it will,We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.
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How pleasant it is for a father to sit at his child's board. It is like an aged man reclining under the shadow of an oak which he has planted.
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Unless a tree has borne blossoms in spring, you will vainly look for fruit on it in autumn.
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Discretion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life.
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Fat, fair, and forty.
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Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above: For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
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For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.