O brothers! let us leave the shame and sin
Of taking vainly, in a plaintive mood,
The holy name of GRIEF!—­holy herein,
That, by the grief of ONE, came all our good.
848
MRS. BROWNING:  Sonnets, Exaggeration.

In all the silent manliness of grief. 849 GOLDSMITH:  Des.  Village, Line 384.

=Ground.=

Where’er we tread, ’t is haunted, holy ground. 850 BYRON:  Ch.  Harold. Canto ii., St. 88.

=Groves.=

The groves were God’s first temples. 851 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT:  A Forest Hymn.

In such green palaces the first kings reign’d, Slept in their shades, and angels entertain’d; With such old counsellors they did advise.  And by frequenting sacred groves grew wise. 852 WALLER:  On St. James’s Park.

=Grudge.=

If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 853 SHAKS.:  M. of Venice, Act 1., Sc. 3.

=Guests.=

Unbidden guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone.
854
SHAKS.:  1 Henry VI., Act ii., Sc. 2.

For I who hold sage Homer’s rule the best,
Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.
855
POPE:  Satire ii., Line 159.

=Guilt.=

So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
856
SHAKS.:  Hamlet, Act iv., Sc. 5.

How guilt, once harbor’d in the conscious breast, Intimidates the brave, degrades the great! 857 DR. JOHNSON:  Irene, Act iv., Sc. 8.

==H.==

=Habit.=

Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,
As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
858
DRYDEN:  Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Bk. xv., Line 155.

Small habits well pursued betimes
May reach the dignity of crimes.
859
HANNAH MORE:  Floris, Pt. i., Line 85.

=Hair.=

She knows her man, and when you rant and swear, Can draw you to her with a single hair. 860 DRYDEN:  From Persius, Satire v., Line 246.

Golden hair, like sunlight streaming
On the marble of her shoulder.
861
J.G.  SAXE:  The Lover’s Vision, St. 3.

When you see fair hair
Be pitiful.
862
GEORGE ELIOT:  Spanish Gypsy, Bk. 4.

Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream’d like a meteor to the troubled air.
863
GRAY:  The Bard, Pt. i., St. 2.

=Halter.=

No man e’er felt the halter draw,
With good opinion of the law.
864
JOHN TRUMBULL:  McFingal, Canto iii., Line 489.

=Hand.=

Let my hand—­
This hand, lie in your own—­my own true friend! 
Hand in hand with you.
865
ROBERT BROWNING:  Paracelsus, Sc. 5.

’T was a hand
White, delicate, dimpled, warm, languid, and bland. 
The hand of a woman is often, in youth,
Somewhat rough, somewhat red, somewhat graceless in truth;
Does its beauty refine, as its pulses grow calm,
Or as Sorrow has, crossed the life-line in the palm?
866
OWEN MEREDITH:  Lucile, Pt. i., Canto iii., St. 13.