Sartain's Union Magazine of Literature and Art, Том 7Caroline Matilda Kirkland, John Seely Hart 1850 |
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Стр. 14
... . The writer of the Hebrew poem , Job , like Soumet , admits Satan into heaven ; and Beranger does the same in his Keys of Paradise , to the scandal THE POOR GIRL . I've left the painful sleep and 14 SARTAIN'S MAGAZINE .
... . The writer of the Hebrew poem , Job , like Soumet , admits Satan into heaven ; and Beranger does the same in his Keys of Paradise , to the scandal THE POOR GIRL . I've left the painful sleep and 14 SARTAIN'S MAGAZINE .
Стр. 15
... GIRL . I've left the painful sleep and dreary That never , never knows one happy dream ; I've come across the mountain weary , Before the sun's first beam . Waking with Nature , lo ! The young bird sings upon the flowery thorn ; Its ...
... GIRL . I've left the painful sleep and dreary That never , never knows one happy dream ; I've come across the mountain weary , Before the sun's first beam . Waking with Nature , lo ! The young bird sings upon the flowery thorn ; Its ...
Стр. 16
... girl was younger , and exceeding fair , Voluptuous and sweet , with loving eyes Melting through long dark lashes , and a mouth Heavy with kisses as a bridal rose ! Unfathomable in their lucid depths ! And when her hand touched his , a ...
... girl was younger , and exceeding fair , Voluptuous and sweet , with loving eyes Melting through long dark lashes , and a mouth Heavy with kisses as a bridal rose ! Unfathomable in their lucid depths ! And when her hand touched his , a ...
Стр. 18
... girl , who had accompanied her back from a recent visit to the United States , and who at that moment entered the room where the mistress of the house was sitting , " I pray you , tell me where you pro- cured the exquisite rouge with ...
... girl , who had accompanied her back from a recent visit to the United States , and who at that moment entered the room where the mistress of the house was sitting , " I pray you , tell me where you pro- cured the exquisite rouge with ...
Стр. 19
... girl of fifteen . I was so struck with the novelty of the sight , that I burst out a - laugh- ing , and his face immediately became a perfect crimson . I hope and trust he will not be of the party , for I shall certainly keep the poor ...
... girl of fifteen . I was so struck with the novelty of the sight , that I burst out a - laugh- ing , and his face immediately became a perfect crimson . I hope and trust he will not be of the party , for I shall certainly keep the poor ...
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admirable AMBLESIDE appearance artist Aston beautiful Béranger bright called character charming Chemisette chiné Christopher North clouds colour corsage dark daughter dear delight dress Edendale engravings eyes Ezra face fancy father feel flowers Frank Fredrika Bremer Frémont genius girl give Goethe gondolier grace hand happy HARRIET MARTINEAU heart heaven honour Hungary Irving Jenny Lind Kate labour lace lady light live look Mary ment mind Miss Fitscammon morning mother mountain nature never night noble o'er once Painted passed Philadelphia poem poet poetical poor present racter Redingote Rephidim riband Rosamond round scene seemed Skates smile song soul spirit style sweet taffetas taste tears thee things THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH thou thought tion trimmed truth voice volants walked William Penn wind words workhouse young
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Стр. 236 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright; I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me — who knows how?
Стр. 238 - Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Стр. 242 - Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Стр. 238 - I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me That my soul cannot resist...
Стр. 226 - The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring. Or chasms and wat'ry depths ; all these have vanished They live no longer in the faith of reason...
Стр. 239 - Tis less of earth than heaven. Her every tone is music's own, Like those of morning birds, And something more than melody Dwells ever in her words; The coinage of her heart are they, And from her lips each flows As one may see the burden'd bee Forth issue from the rose.
Стр. 241 - Death has left on her Only the beautiful. Still, for all slips of hers, One of Eve's family — Wipe those poor lips of hers Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses ; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home ? Who was her father ? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister ? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other...
Стр. 242 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Стр. 239 - I know, I know I should not see The season's glorious show, Nor would its brightness shine for me, Nor its wild music flow ; But if, around my place of sleep, The friends I love should come to weep, They might not haste to go. Soft airs, and song, and light and bloom Should keep them lingering by my tomb.
Стр. 236 - And called her good as fair, For all God ever gave to her She kept with chary care. She kept with care her beauties rare From lovers warm and true, For her heart was cold to all but gold And the rich came not to woo — But honoured well are charms to sell If priests the selling do.