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She did not at all wish to sing. "The songs," she said, "were sung idly at home while we sat at needlework. They did not mean anything to me. I thought no harm of them." "Nor is there harm, my child," said Thorberg. Gudrid said, "But this is a rite, and the song is part of it. I think I ought not to sing, because I am a Christian." Thorberg was still smiling, but her eyes glittered.
The thought ran through Nick Attwood's head like a half-remembered tune. Once or twice he had all but sung it instead of the words of his part. Master Will Shakspere was in town!
I shall not write it here. Oh! how the heart will break almost for a loving word! I believe the great want of the world is love. Jesus came to bring love to earth. During these severe afflictions I began to see how little there was in life. I wondered at the gaiety of people. Seemed like a pall hung over the earth. I would wonder that the birds sung, or the sun would shine.
She looked white and spent; there were bister circles round her eyes. "'I am tired, she said, with dry lips. 'You will excuse me, Mr. Marshfield, I must really go to bed. "'Go to bed, go to bed, cried her husband gayly. Then, quoting in Russian from the song she had just sung: 'Sleep, my little soft white dove: my little innocent tender lamb! She hurried from the room.
Her admiration for a School where this kind of thing was done was only equalled by her dismay when she discovered her mistake and was requested to hand over twenty-three cents! And now came the last and most important toast of all, and the School song was sung with a right good will. Judith stood up and found herself in the grip of an emotion stronger than herself.
The people eagerly responded to all patriotic influences, and especially to war songs, some of which had been sung for more than two thousand years. Certain of these were reproduced by the English poet Byron, who, leaving his native land, entered heart and soul into the desperate contest, and urged the Greeks to heroic action in memory of their fathers.
Once or twice I have seen Marie at the window, when she has not seen me. But I have not attempted to visit her again. Of what use is it for me, then, to have such a knowledge of her, when she does not have a similar one sympathetic with me? She has not sung in public of late, and I do not know the reason why she has not.
And this is what he sung: "Lady fair, Swan-white, Lift thine eyes, Banish night By the might Of thine eyes. "Snowy arms, Oars of snow, Oar her hither, Plashing low. Soft and slow, Oar her hither. "Stream behind her O'er the lake, Radiant whiteness! In her wake Following, following, for her sake, Radiant whiteness!
Buddhist thought entered the field of justice: in Sung time we hear complaints that judges did not apply the laws and showed laxity, because they hoped to gain religious merit by sparing the lives of criminals. We had seen how the main current of Buddhism had changed from a revolutionary to a reactionary doctrine.
Certainly if there be a land and a spot where the name of that good patriot is not sometimes mentioned and sung, that land, that spot is modern Spain and modern Tarifa. The voyage of these narrow seas can scarcely fail to be interesting to the most apathetic individual, from the nature of the scenery which presents itself to the eye on either side.
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