John Purver Richardson

Summary

John Purver Richardson Life and Literature

How soon is the mind lost in contemplating it! How great that Being whose hand paints every flower, and shapes every leaf; who forms every bud on every tree; who feeds each crawling worm with a parent's care, and watches like a mother over the insect that sleeps away the night in the bosom of a flower; who throws open the golden gates of day, and draws around a sleeping world the dusky curtains of the night; who measures out the drops of every shower, the whirling snowflakes, and the sands of man's eventful life; who determines alike the fall of a sparrow and the fate of a kingdom
Source: Gutenberg

John Purver Richardson Life and Literature

In the warm, frank words, "Good-by."
The mother, sending forth her child
To meet with cares and strife,
Breathes through her tears, her doubts, and fears
For the loved one's future life.
No cold "adieu," no "farewell," lives
Within her choking sigh,
But the deepest sob of anguish gives,
"God bless, thee, boy! 'Good-by!'"
—Anonymous.
777 The sign of goodness in the young is to love the old; and in the old to love the young.
[161]
778
To all, to each, a fair good night,
And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
Sir Walter Scott.
Source: Gutenberg

John Purver Richardson Life and Literature

She tasked all her sprightly powers and tender blandishments to win him back to happiness; but she only drove the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he saw cause to love her, the more torturing was the thought that he was soon to make her wretched. A little while, thought he, and the smile will banish from that cheek—the song will die away from those lips—the lustre of those eyes will be quenched with sorrow—and the happy heart which now beats lightly in that bosom will be weighed down, like mine, by the cares and miseries of the world.
Source: Gutenberg

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