Sartain's Union Magazine of Literature and Art, Том 7Caroline Matilda Kirkland, John Seely Hart 1850 |
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... Sweet Song . Words and Music by J. AUGUSTINE WADE , 322 Trade and Gentility . Illustrating Story by Silver- * pen . Two Cuts , Illustrations of Prof. Rhoads's Caxton Article . Five Cuts , 142 , 209 197 , 198 Colonel Fremont . With a ...
... Sweet Song . Words and Music by J. AUGUSTINE WADE , 322 Trade and Gentility . Illustrating Story by Silver- * pen . Two Cuts , Illustrations of Prof. Rhoads's Caxton Article . Five Cuts , 142 , 209 197 , 198 Colonel Fremont . With a ...
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... sweet names , darling ! call me a flower That lives in the light of thy smile each hour , That droops when its heaven , thy love , grows cold , That shrinks from the wicked , the false , and bold , That blooms for thee only , through ...
... sweet names , darling ! call me a flower That lives in the light of thy smile each hour , That droops when its heaven , thy love , grows cold , That shrinks from the wicked , the false , and bold , That blooms for thee only , through ...
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... sweet- ness , which won for him an instant celebrity , when , in 1820 , his first publication , the Poetical Meditations , appeared . He was then in his thirty - second year . The glowing and elevated sentiment of piety which pervaded ...
... sweet- ness , which won for him an instant celebrity , when , in 1820 , his first publication , the Poetical Meditations , appeared . He was then in his thirty - second year . The glowing and elevated sentiment of piety which pervaded ...
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... sweet ! The seaman , when his fragile bark is tost By angry waves , and shipwreck seems at hand , Back looking o'er the expanse that he has crossed , Regrets too late the idlesse of the land . Then wishes he that , in his father's cot ...
... sweet ! The seaman , when his fragile bark is tost By angry waves , and shipwreck seems at hand , Back looking o'er the expanse that he has crossed , Regrets too late the idlesse of the land . Then wishes he that , in his father's cot ...
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... sweet cot , Her infant pair upon her happy breast- O , dost thou not ? And how we both still kissed , in our caresses , Her tresses ? My sister , dost thou not remember thee Of the fair castle by the winding Dore ? And of that tower so ...
... sweet cot , Her infant pair upon her happy breast- O , dost thou not ? And how we both still kissed , in our caresses , Her tresses ? My sister , dost thou not remember thee Of the fair castle by the winding Dore ? And of that tower so ...
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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.