Graham's American Monthly Magazine of Literature, Art, and Fashion, Volume 35G. R. Graham, 1849 |
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Alice Ally Ariana Aubyn beautiful birds blessed bosom bright Brigs brow cheek child cold cottage Crayford dark deacon dear death deep Donald door Dormer dream Dugald Durzil Effie Emilie Jones exclaimed eyes face father fear feelings felt flaxseed Florence flowers gazed gentle girl Grace Graham's Magazine hand happy heard heart heaven HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT hope hour husband Jasper Kearny knew lady leave Lelland light lips look Lord Dundas Margaret marriage mind Miriam morning mother Nanny never night o'er once pale passed pedler poor quiet replied Reuben Salathiel seemed shadow Sir Miles sister smile sorrow soul spirit Stephen Watts Kearny stood stranger sweet tears tell thee Theresa thing thou thought tion tone turned Uncle Tom village voice walked weary Widecomb wife wild William Allan Wingate woman wonder words young youth
Popular passages
Page 20 - YE that do truly and earnestly repent you of your sins, and are in love and charity with your neighbours, and intend to lead a new life, following the commandments of God, and walking from henceforth in his holy ways ; draw near with faith, and take this Holy Sacrament to your comfort ; and make your humble confession to Almighty God, meekly kneeling upon your knees.
Page 192 - The Son of man goeth as it is written of him : but woe unto that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed ! it had been good for that man if he had not been born.
Page 106 - But, not cast down, forth from the place she flew, And with her mate fresh earth and grasses brought And built her nest anew. But scarcely had she placed The last soft feather on its ample floor, When wicked hand, or chance, again laid waste And wrought the ruin o'er.
Page 271 - My life is like the prints which feet Have left on Tampa's desert strand ; Soon as the rising tide shall beat, All trace will vanish from the sand ; Yet, as if grieving to efface All vestige of the human race, On that lone shore loud moans the sea, — But none, alas ! shall mourn for me ! TO THE MOCKING BIRD.
Page 97 - O'ercame its agony, she stopped and fell. The Shammar men came round her as she lay, And Sofuk raised her head and held it close Against his breast. Her dull and glazing eye Met his, and with a shuddering gasp she died. Then like a child his bursting grief made way In passionate tears, and with him all the tribe Wept for the faithful mare.
Page 156 - Here they cling close to the sides of the tree, holding fast by the claws and also by the bills. They appear to be fond of sleep, and often retire to their holes during the day, probably to take their regular siesta. They are extremely sociable with, and fond of each other, often scratching each other's heads and necks, and always, at night, nestling as close as possible to each other, preferring, at that time, a perpendicular position, supported by their bill and claws.
Page 271 - My life is like the autumn leaf That trembles in the moon's pale ray ; Its hold is frail, its date is brief: Restless — and soon to pass away ; Yet ere that leaf shall fall and fade The parent tree will mourn its shade, The winds bewail the leafless tree. But none shall breathe a sigh for me...
Page 25 - He is also of a mild and peaceful disposition, seldom fighting or quarreling with, other birds. His society is courted by the inhabitants of the country, and few farmers neglect to provide for him, in some suitable place, a snug little summer-house, ready fitted and rent free. For this he more than sufficiently repays them by the cheerfulness of his song, and the multitude of injurious insects which he daily destroys.
Page 257 - Seekonk's lonely wave we stood, And marked the languor of repose that lay, Softer than sleep, on valley, wave and wood? A trance of holy sadness seemed to lull The charmed earth and circumambient air, And the low murmur of the leaves seemed full Of a resigned and passionless despair. Though the warm breath of summer lingered still In the lone paths where late her footsteps passed, The pallid star-flowers on the purple hill Sighed dreamily, "We are the last! the last!
Page 265 - Let not his frailties be remembered," said Johnson; "he was a very great man." But, for our part, we rather say "Let them be remembered," since their tendency is to endear; and we question whether he himself would not feel gratified in hearing his reader, after dwelling with admiration on the proofs of his greatness, close the volume with the kind-hearted phrase, so fondly and familiarly ejaculated, of "PooR GOLDSMITH.