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Updated: June 10, 2025
"We own that committee from top to bottom." Indeed, by four o'clock in the afternoon the message came that the committee had agreed to recommend the bill. Shortly after that the first flurry occurred. There came a knock at the door, followed by the entrance of a stocky Irish American of about forty years of age, whose black hair was plastered over his forehead. His sea-blue eyes had a stormy look.
In perfect harmony were her ivory-clear complexion and deep sea-blue eyes that looked upon the world with the ingenuous calmness of a mermaid or the pixie of an undiscovered mountain stream. Her frame was strong and yet possessed the grace of absolute naturalness.
A man of the Stonewall Brigade, pausing his moment before the dead leader, first bent, then lifted his head. He was a scout, a blonde soldier, tall and strong, with a quiet, studious face and sea-blue eyes. He looked now at the vaulted roof as though he saw instead the sky. He spoke in a controlled, determined voice.
Now, all these distinguishing features were merged in the sea-blue mist. The great wall itself seemed to be one vast, unscalable precipice, capped by a series of shining spires. And for the first time in three sorrowful days, while her eyes dwelt on that castle above the clouds, the mysterious grandeur of nature healed her vexed spirit, and the peace that passeth all understanding fell upon her.
"Maidens with voices like honey for sweetness that breathe desire, Would that I were a sea bird with wings that could never tire, Over the foam-flowers flying, with halcyons ever on wing, Keeping a careless heart, a sea-blue bird of the spring."
Caleb Brent, looking twenty years older than when Donald had seen him last, sat in an easy chair by the window, gazing with lack-luster eyes out across the bight. He was hopelessly crippled with rheumatism, and his sea-blue eyes still held the same lost-dog wistfulness. "Hello, Caleb!" Donald greeted him cordially. "I've just cleaned up the Sawdust Pile for you.
"If it isn't the wind I don't know in the world what's doing on the millish," said the old lady. And then baby smiled through the big round beads that stood in her sea-blue eyes and held out her arms to me. Oh God! Oh God! Was not this my answer? In her different way Christian Ann had arrived at the same conclusion.
But the real reason is that I love you and know that some day I am going to see more happiness in your eyes than I can see to-night." Again, in that impulsive way she had, she bent and kissed his hand. "Dear King Cophetua," she murmured, "your beggar maid will never be done with adoring you." She looked up at him with a sweet and lovely wistfulness shining in her sea-blue eyes.
"Wet sands marbled with moon and cloud" "Flits by the sea-blue bird of March" "Leafless ribs and iron horns" "When the long dun wolds are ribbed with snow" in all these cases one word is the keystone of an arch which would fall into ruin without it.
"Well, all I kin say is she don't look it," and his shoulders twitched with delight. "The missin' link," he repeated from time to time, the utterance being always followed by a fresh convulsion of mirth as his sea-blue eyes roved to the visitor's grave face. "Do they come here, Cousin Jacob?" asked Sylvia uneasily, under cover of the rattle of the wagon, "Uncle Calvin and Aunt Martha?"
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