American Monthly Knickerbocker, Volum 43Charles Fenno Hoffman, Lewis Gaylord Clark, Timothy Flint, Kinahan Cornwallis, John Holmes Agnew 1854 |
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Side 10
... mother was not dressed , and I had better prepare for supper ; he would send up my trunks immediately . We went up together , Mar- garet , Elfie , and I ; and at the foot of the stairs we met an old friend in whose company I have ...
... mother was not dressed , and I had better prepare for supper ; he would send up my trunks immediately . We went up together , Mar- garet , Elfie , and I ; and at the foot of the stairs we met an old friend in whose company I have ...
Side 11
... mother , when a young wife , always dressed her hair in the spring with these ; and I fancied father ' But I could not finish the sentence ; and when Margaret took my hand and led me to the house , I did not remonstrate . When we ...
... mother , when a young wife , always dressed her hair in the spring with these ; and I fancied father ' But I could not finish the sentence ; and when Margaret took my hand and led me to the house , I did not remonstrate . When we ...
Side 16
... mother , in her palmiest pride of incubation , was nothing to her ; and so , not wishing to throw away my chance of such a feather- bed , I crept stealthily under her wing , thinking that such a comfortable old god - mother must surely ...
... mother , in her palmiest pride of incubation , was nothing to her ; and so , not wishing to throw away my chance of such a feather- bed , I crept stealthily under her wing , thinking that such a comfortable old god - mother must surely ...
Side 19
... Mother - land , and silver - voiced Spring , I cannot sing at thy gay bridal - feast ; My hands are all too weak to offer flowers ; My step too faltering to grace the dance Thy glad Bacchantes lead so joyously ; My cheek hath grown too ...
... Mother - land , and silver - voiced Spring , I cannot sing at thy gay bridal - feast ; My hands are all too weak to offer flowers ; My step too faltering to grace the dance Thy glad Bacchantes lead so joyously ; My cheek hath grown too ...
Side 34
... mother's tenderness , upon the burden she bore ! how oft did she speculate upon the color of its hair and eyes ; and then too , doubtless , in the midst of her visions , the form of her loved husband would appear , and she would fondly ...
... mother's tenderness , upon the burden she bore ! how oft did she speculate upon the color of its hair and eyes ; and then too , doubtless , in the midst of her visions , the form of her loved husband would appear , and she would fondly ...
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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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Populære avsnitt
Side 301 - The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall, — The majesty of Darkness shall Receive my parting ghost ! This spirit shall return to Him That gave its heavenly spark ; Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dim When thou thyself art dark ! No ! it shall live again, and shine In bliss unknown...
Side 301 - The Sun's eye had a sickly glare, The Earth with age was wan, The skeletons of nations were Around that lonely Man ! Some had expired in fight — the brands Still rusted in their bony hands; In plague and famine some. Earth's cities had no sound nor tread ; And ships were drifting with the dead To shores where all was dumb...
Side 184 - He strided on. Every head excepting ours was now in the dust. We remained kneeling, our hands folded, our eyes fixed on the monarch. When he drew near, we caught his attention. He stopped, partly turned towards us, — 'Who are these?' 'The teachers, great king,
Side 313 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Side 180 - Sir Walter breathed his last, in the presence of all his children. It was a beautiful day — so warm that every window was wide open— and so perfectly still, that the sound of all others most delicious to his ear, the gentle ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles, was distinctly audible as we knelt around the bed, and his eldest son kissed and closed his eyes.
Side 143 - Her finger was so small, the ring Would not stay on, which they did bring, It was too wide a peck; And to say truth (for out it must) It looked like the great collar (.just) About our young colt's neck.
Side 184 - He came forward unattended, — in solitary grandeur, — exhibiting the proud gait and majesty of an eastern monarch. His dress was rich, but not distinctive ; and he carried in his hand the gold-sheathed sword, which seems to have taken the place of the sceptre of ancient times. But it was his high aspect and commanding eye that chiefly riveted our attention. He strided on. Every head excepting ours was now in the dust.
Side 335 - I am inclined to think, his practice, when engaged in the composition of any work, to excite thus his vein by the perusal of others, on the same subject or plan, from which the slightest hint caught by his imagination, as he read, was sufficient to kindle there such a train of thought as, but for that spark, had never been awakened, and of which he himself soon forgot the source.
Side 184 - God, who is independent of the incidents of mortality, and that beside him, there is no God; and then, with an air of indifference, perhaps disdain, he dashed it down to the ground. Moung Zah stooped forward, picked it up, and handed it to us. Moung Yo made a slight attempt to save us by unfolding one of the volumes, which composed our present, and displaying its beauty ; but his majesty took no notice. Our fate was decided. After a few moments, Moung Zah interpreted his royal master's will, in the...
Side 200 - Let me behold thee in future years ! Yet thy head needeth a circlet rarer, Philip, my king — A wreath, not of gold, but palm. One day, Philip, my king ! Thou, too, must tread, as we...