Boston Common: Tale of Our Own TimesJ. French, 1856 - 556 Seiten |
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affectionate answered arms arose asked aunt aunt Gertrude beautiful blessed BOSTON COMMON breathed brow calm carriage cheerful child cousin Ernest dark dear father dearest deep delight door dream dress exclaimed eyes face fair brow father fear feel felt gazing Gilt Edges girl Good-morning Grace grief hand happy Harry heard heart heaven Helen Clifton Hettie Huntingdon husband Jessie Weston John Smith Kate Katherine Katie kiss lady length Letise Letitia Linden Linden House listen little Willie live looked married mind morning mother Nellie never night noble once poor pray replied Robert Everett Roland Hastings scarcely seated seemed smile soon sorrow soul spirit strong suddenly suffering sweet sweet spot talk tears tell thing thought told trouble walk weary weeping wept wife Willie wish wonder words young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 389 - We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate.
Seite 516 - Then came Peter to him, and said ; Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him ? till seven times ? Jesus saith unto him ; I say not unto thee, until seven times, but until seventy times seven.
Seite 366 - O gentlemen, the time of life is short ! To spend that shortness basely were too long, If life did ride upon a dial's point, Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
Seite 188 - OH ! had we some bright little isle of our own, In a blue summer ocean, far off and alone, Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowers, And the bee banquets on through a whole year of flowers ; Where the sun loves to pause With so fond a delay, That the night only draws A thin veil o'er the day; Where simply to feel that we breathe, that we live, Is worth the best joy that life elsewhere can give.
Seite 240 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Seite 430 - But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, Long-sounding isles, and intermingled graves, Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws A death-like silence, and a dread repose: Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green, Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
Seite 194 - How could you say my face was fair, And yet that face forsake? How could you win my virgin heart, Yet leave that heart to break?
Seite 547 - Tis never woman's part Out of her fond misgivings to perplex The fortunes of the man to whom she cleaves ; 'Tis hers to weave all that she has of fair And bright in the dark meshes of their web Inseparate from their windings.
Seite 10 - Oh, -woman! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou.
Seite 35 - And elegance, and taste : the faultless form, Shaped by the hand of harmony ; the cheek, Where the live crimson, through the native white Soft-shooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom, And every nameless grace ; the parted lip, Like the red rose-bud moist with morning dew, Breathing delight...