The Knickerbocker: Or, New-York Monthly Magazine, Volum 46

Portada
Charles Fenno Hoffman, Timothy Flint, Lewis Gaylord Clark, John Holmes Agnew, Kinahan Cornwallis
1855
 

Què en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya

No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.

Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot

Frases i termes més freqüents

Passatges populars

Pàgina 25 - Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.
Pàgina 624 - Ye who love a nation's legends, Love the ballads of a people, That like voices from afar off Call to us to pause and listen, Speak in tones so plain and childlike, Scarcely can the ear distinguish Whether they are sung or spoken...
Pàgina 625 - Hiawatha!" And the rabbit from his pathway Leaped aside, and at a distance Sat erect upon his haunches, Half in fear and half in frolic, Saying to the little hunter, "Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!" But he heeded not, nor heard them, For his thoughts were with the red deer^ On their tracks his eyes were fastened, Leading downward to the river, To the ford across the river, And as one in slumber walked he.
Pàgina 625 - There he waited till the deer came, Till he saw two antlers lifted, Saw two eyes look from the thicket, Saw two nostrils point to windward, And a deer came down the pathway, Flecked with leafy light and shadow.
Pàgina 623 - And though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting, to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter?
Pàgina 528 - Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moan ; They might lament — for I am one Whom men love not — and yet regret, Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy, in memory yet ODE TO THE WEST WIND.
Pàgina 396 - Ye are furrowed all o'er; Strength of my youth, All your vigor is gone; Thoughts of my youth, Your gay visions are flown.
Pàgina 112 - There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl The feast of reason and the flow of soul...
Pàgina 263 - Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last; One speaks the glory of the British queen, And one describes a charming Indian screen; A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes; At every word a reputation dies. Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of chat, With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.
Pàgina 20 - We resolve to have nothing more to do with it ; for "there is a point beyond which forbearance ceases to be a virtue," and we conceive that point to be thirty-two degrees above zero 4 at the very least.

Informació bibliogràfica