Monthly Literary Miscellany, Volumes 4 à 5Beecher & Quinby, 1851 |
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Expressions et termes fréquents
admiration beauty bless bosom breath bright Cabbala Cabbalists character Cherson child Christian church dark daugh death deep Duke of Orleans earth England eyes fancy father feel flowers FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD friends genius give glory Goethe grief hand happiness heart heaven Hebrew holy honor hope hour human intellect Ireland JOHN S. C. ABBOTT Josephine king labor lady land letter light living look Lord Byron Lucca masorah ment mighty mind MONTHLY LITERARY MISCELLANY moral mournful Napoleon nations nature neath ness never night noble o'er once passed passion peace perfect Pierre Lavalles poem poet poor race Saxon scene seemed smile soon sorrow soul spirit sweet Swift tears thee things thou thought tion toil truth ture voice whole wild William Penn words young
Fréquemment cités
Page 39 - And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; * They love to see the flaming forge. And hear the bellows roar. And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Page 39 - 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.
Page 335 - His whole property is then immediately taxed from 2 to 10 per cent. Besides the probate, large fees are demanded for burying him in the chancel ; his virtues are handed down to posterity on taxed marble ; and he is then gathered to his fathers, — to be taxed no more.
Page 39 - The village smithy stands ; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. 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.
Page 335 - The schoolboy whips his taxed top ; the beardless youth manages his taxed horse, with a taxed bridle, on a taxed road; and the dying Englishman, pouring his medicine, which has paid...
Page 391 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 316 - She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Page 164 - They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek mixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright: at the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.
Page 365 - Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days ! None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise.
Page 188 - Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.