American Monthly Knickerbocker, Volum 161840 |
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Side 9
... For me , matured by sweet desire , No honey'd fruits of pleasure grow ; Since kindles not for me that fire Which only in one breast can glow . PASSAIC : TOUCHING THAT RIVER . BY FLACCUS . ' 1840. ] 9 Whisper of One Unbeloved .
... For me , matured by sweet desire , No honey'd fruits of pleasure grow ; Since kindles not for me that fire Which only in one breast can glow . PASSAIC : TOUCHING THAT RIVER . BY FLACCUS . ' 1840. ] 9 Whisper of One Unbeloved .
Side 11
... sweet . But pleasing more than outward sense , She sparkled with intelligence ; Her mind so rare , her wit so smart , She won my brain as well as heart : Enough : the journal of my breast , Kept at the time , must tell the rest . - THE ...
... sweet . But pleasing more than outward sense , She sparkled with intelligence ; Her mind so rare , her wit so smart , She won my brain as well as heart : Enough : the journal of my breast , Kept at the time , must tell the rest . - THE ...
Side 12
... sweet ! Well , so are many that I meet ; How flattering too ! where'er I go , Her eyes for mine a preference show : Poor soul ! ' t were pity she should burn With passion I can ne'er return : I'll gaze , not love : my course is plain ...
... sweet ! Well , so are many that I meet ; How flattering too ! where'er I go , Her eyes for mine a preference show : Poor soul ! ' t were pity she should burn With passion I can ne'er return : I'll gaze , not love : my course is plain ...
Side 13
... sweet twilight hue that shone Softly on me , and me alone ! ' T was not thy song of music clear , That rings to ravish all that hear ; But oh ! thy gently breathing tone Murmured to me and me alone ! All force , all dazzling , fails to ...
... sweet twilight hue that shone Softly on me , and me alone ! ' T was not thy song of music clear , That rings to ravish all that hear ; But oh ! thy gently breathing tone Murmured to me and me alone ! All force , all dazzling , fails to ...
Side 14
... sweet , yet so accursed . Alas ! our eyes at church did meet ; Oh ! glance too ravishingly sweet ! My soul leaped to my eyes to see One gaze of kindness bent on me : It told of sorrow for my pain It told of wish for peace again ; 1t ...
... sweet , yet so accursed . Alas ! our eyes at church did meet ; Oh ! glance too ravishingly sweet ! My soul leaped to my eyes to see One gaze of kindness bent on me : It told of sorrow for my pain It told of wish for peace again ; 1t ...
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American Monthly Knickerbocker, Volum 8 Charles Fenno Hoffman,Lewis Gaylord Clark,Kinahan Cornwallis,Timothy Flint,John Holmes Agnew Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1836 |
American Monthly Knickerbocker, Volum 20 Charles Fenno Hoffman,Lewis Gaylord Clark,Kinahan Cornwallis,Timothy Flint,John Holmes Agnew Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1842 |
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admiration American Anacreon André ANTHON appeared Arnold beautiful Boston brig bright called Camié character dark death delight door Drusilla earth editors eyes fair father feel flowers forest gaze gentleman give hand happy head heard heart heaven Hernando del Pulgar honor hope horse hour hundred Indian Jeremiah JOHN WATERS KNICKERBOCKER lady lake Lake Superior land Lexicon light live look Micromegas mind morning mountain nature never New-York night North American Review o'er once passed picture present racter readers replied rienced river round scarcely scene seemed seen shore side Sir Henry Clinton Sirian smile soon soul spirit stars stream sweet taste tell thee thing thou thought tion trees truth turned village voice walk WASHINGTON IRVING West Point whole wild Wimple words young
Populære avsnitt
Side 409 - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Side 409 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice Singing in Paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close : Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Side 409 - Week in. week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
Side 409 - Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought ; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought ! ENDYMION.
Side 93 - In my opinion, profound minds are the most likely to think lightly of the resources of human reason; and it is the pert superficial thinker who is generally strongest in every kind of unbelief. The deep philosopher sees chains of causes and effects so wonderfully and strangely linked together, that he is usually the last person to decide upon the impossibility of any two series of events being independent of each other...
Side 90 - Those morning haunts are where they should be, at home; not sleeping, or concocting the surfeits of an irregular feast, but up and stirring, in winter often ere the sound of any bell awake men to labour or to devotion; in summer as oft with the bird that first rouses, or not much tardier, to read good authors, or cause them to be read, till the attention be weary, or memory have its full fraught: then, with useful and generous labours preserving the body's health and hardiness...
Side 64 - Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly; These, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play; But I have that within which passeth show; These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.
Side 75 - ... the silver cord is snapped, or the golden bowl is broken, or the pitcher is broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern, and the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.
Side 95 - And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
Side 90 - ... to read good authors, or cause them to be read, till the attention be weary, or memory have its full fraught; then with useful and generous labors preserving the body's health and hardiness to render lightsome, clear, and not lumpish obedience to the mind, to the cause of religion, and our country's liberty...