turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again, just for to-night.
313
ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN: _Rock Me to Sleep._
=Chime.=
Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
314
MOORE: _A Canadian Boat-Song._
=Chivalry.=
Cervantes smil'd Spain's chivalry away.
315
BYRON: _Don Juan,_ Canto xiii., St. 11.
=Choice.=
There's small choice in rotten apples.
316
SHAKS.: _Tam. of the S.,_ Act i., Sc. 1.
Follow thou thy choice.
317
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT: _Alcayde of Molina._
=Choler.=
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
318
SHAKS.: _Jul. Caesar,_ Act iv., Sc. 3.
=Chord.=
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
319
TENNYSON: _Locksley Hall,_ Line 33.
=Christ.=
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free.
320
JULIA WARD HOWE: _Battle Hymn of the Republic._
Hail to the King of Bethlehem,
Who weareth in his diadem
The yellow crocus for the gem
Of his authority.
321
LONGFELLOW: _Christus, Golden Legend,_ Pt. iii.
Christ--the one great word
Well worth all languages in earth or Heaven.
322
BAILEY: _Festus,_ Sc. _Heaven._
We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.
323
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL: _Biglow Papers,_ No. iii.
=Christmas.=
At Christmas play, and make good cheer,
For Christmas comes but once a year.
324
TUSSER: 500 _Pts. Good Hus.,_ Ch. 12.
Again at Christmas did we weave
The holly round the Christmas hearth;
The silent snow possess'd the earth.
325
TENNYSON: _In Memoriam,_ Pt. lxxvii., St. 1.
Bright be thy Christmas tide!
Carol it far and wide,
Jesus, the King and the Saviour, is come!
326
FRANCES R. HAVERGAL: _Christmas Mottoes._
Heap on more wood! the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
327
SCOTT: _Marmion,_ Canto vi., Introduction.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,--not even a mouse.
328
CLEMENT C. MOORE: _A Visit from St. Nicholas._
=Church.=
Who builds a church to God, and not to fame,
Will never mark the marble with his name.
329
POPE: _Moral Essays,_ Epis. iii., Line 285.
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