The Atlantic Monthly, 20 tomasAtlantic Monthly Company, 1867 |
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America answered Appenzell asked beautiful better called character Church Cincinnati Clement door England Euroclydon eyes face fancy feel felt Fezzan France genius Gertrude Gifted girl give Greenland hand head heard heart Heligoland horse hour human hundred instrument Italian Italy John Adams knew lady Landsgemeinde Laura Libby Prison light Lillie live looked Luttrel Madame Récamier Mason and Hamlin melodeon ment mind Miss Montalvan morning mother Murray Bradshaw Myrtle nation nature ness never night once Padua passed passion perhaps person piano poem poet present Richard round seemed Shakespeare side soul Spain Steinway story strange sweet Sybaris tell Terville thing thou thought thousand tion told turned Venice village voice walked wards whole woice woman wonder words young
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252 psl. - QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright.
425 psl. - I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and perhaps the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind, by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion, and that whatsoever might be the future date of my History, the life of the historian must be short and precarious.
109 psl. - Yes, trust them not; for there is an upstart crow beautified with our feathers, that, with his tiger's heart wrapped in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you, and being an absolute Johannes factotum is, in his own conceit, the only Shake-scene in a country.
215 psl. - BY the flow of the inland river, Whence the fleets of iron have fled, Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, Asleep are the ranks of the dead ; Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day ; Under the one, the Blue ; Under the other, the Gray.
253 psl. - Leave me ! There's something come into my thought, That must and shall be sung high and aloof \ Safe from the wolf's black jaw, and the dull ass's hoof.
30 psl. - ... clime, And spreads the honey of his deep research At his return a rich repast for me. He travels, and I too. I tread his deck, Ascend his topmast, through his peering eyes Discover countries, with a kindred heart Suffer his woes, and share in his escapes ; While fancy, like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.
109 psl. - Shakespeare's poems the creative power and the intellectual energy wrestle as in a war embrace. Each in its excess of strength seems to threaten the extinction of the other. At length in the drama they were reconciled, and fought each with its shield before the breast of the other.
216 psl. - Sadly, but not with upbraiding, The generous deed was done, In the storm of the years that are fading, No braver battle was won . Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Under the blossoms, the Blue, Under the garlands, the Gray.
215 psl. - From the silence of sorrowful hours The desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers Alike for the friend and the foe ; Under the sod and the clew, Waiting the judgment day ; Under the roses, the Blue ; Under the lilies, the Gray.
159 psl. - Westward the course of empire takes its way, The four first acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day : Time's noblest offspring is the last.