The Atlantic Monthly, Том 72Atlantic Monthly Company, 1893 |
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Agata Aidone ain't Antonio asked Avignon banks Beauport beauty better birds blue Boccaccio Burgio Calascibetta called Captain Lucy Clovelly Cola di Rienzo color comare court dark door Edwin Booth England Espey eyes face father feeling Felice fire friends girl give Greek Greek poetry hand Handel head heard heart horse human hyar Kenniston knew land Larrabee less light living looked Lord Exmouth Marina matter Mellony ment mind mountain nature Neil Burns ness never Newnham College night once party passed perhaps person Petrarch poet Saint-Castin seemed seen sense side Sons of Liberty soul spirit Squire stood sure Taft talk tell things thought tion told town true ture turned Vaucluse voice vote woman words write young
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Стр. 362 - Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn ; happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Стр. 360 - N. to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.
Стр. 51 - Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp through the foul womb of night The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fixed sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch...
Стр. 227 - There had been established, just at that time, in these four towns, an association calling itself the North of England Council for promoting the Higher Education of Women.
Стр. 220 - Let them praise his name in the dance: Let them sing praises unto him with the timbrel and harp. 4 For the Lord taketh pleasure in his people: he will beautify the meek with salvation.
Стр. 55 - Brother ! For us was thy back so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed; thou wert our Conscript, on whom the lot fell, and fighting our battles wert so marred.
Стр. 554 - Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Стр. 553 - Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Стр. 213 - sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander,' — but the car-driver was not such a gander as we, like geese, took him for.
Стр. 554 - Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone...