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The Lady's Magazine and Museum of the Belles-lettres, Fine Arts ..., Volume 8
Volledige weergave - 1836
The Lady's Magazine and Museum of the Belles-lettres, Fine Arts ..., Volume 1
Volledige weergave - 1832
The Lady's Magazine and Museum of the Belles-lettres, Fine Arts ..., Volumes 2-7
Volledige weergave - 1832
admirably appeared arms attended beautiful become brought called character child close colour daughter death dress effect English eyes face fair father feel flowers front gave give green hand happy head heard heart Henry hope hour interest Italy King lady late leave letter light live London look Lord manner Mary means ment mind Miss mother nature nearly never night once passed performed person piece play poor present produced Queen received rendered rose round royal scene seemed seen side soon spirit success taken tell theatre thee thing thou thought tion took turned voice whole wife wish woman young
Pagina 158 - THE stormy March is come at last, With wind, and cloud, and changing skies ; I hear the rushing of the blast, That through the snowy valley flies. Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild, stormy month ! in praise of thee ; Yet though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me. For thou, to northern lands, again The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.
Pagina 347 - 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.
Pagina 161 - Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed— and gazed— but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward...
Pagina 158 - Are just set out to meet the sea. The year's departing beauty hides Of wintry storms the sullen threat; But in thy sternest frown abides A look of kindly promise yet. Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies. And that soft time of sunny showers, When the wide bloom, on earth that lies, Seems of a brighter world than ours.
Pagina 161 - I wandered lonely as a cloud" I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
Pagina 346 - I GAZED upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, 'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June, When brooks -send up a cheerful tune, And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make, The rich, green mountain-turf should break.
Pagina 85 - But let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.
Pagina 85 - LIKEWISE, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands ; that, if any obey not the word, they also may without the word be won by the conversation of the wives ; 2 While they behold your chaste conversation coupled with fear.
Pagina 347 - There through the long, long summer hours, The golden light should lie, And thick young herbs and groups of flowers Stand in their beauty by. The oriole should build and tell His love-tale close beside my cell; The idle butterfly Should rest him there, and there be heard The housewife bee and humming-bird.
Pagina 346 - A coffin borne through sleet, And icy clods above it rolled, While fierce the tempests beat — Away ! — I will not think of these — Blue be the sky and soft the breeze, Earth green beneath the feet, And be the damp mould gently pressed Into my narrow place of rest. There through the long, long summer hours. The golden light should lie, And thick young herbs and groups of flowers Stand in their beauty by.