The Knickerbocker: Or, New-York Monthly Magazine, Volume 46 (Google eBook)

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Page 543 - Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Page 641 - Then, upon one knee uprising, Hiawatha aimed an arrow ; Scarce a twig moved with his motion, Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled, But the wary roebuck started, Stamped with all his hoofs together, Listened with one foot uplifted, Leaped as if to meet the arrow ; Ah ! the singing, fatal arrow, Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him...
Page 365 - Though I speak with the tongues of men and of Angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
Page 544 - And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear. Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
Page 27 - 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.
Page 642 - Shuddered at the words they uttered, Lay down on her bed in silence, Hid her face, but made no answer ; Lay there trembling, freezing, burning At the looks they cast upon her, At the fearful words they uttered. Forth into the empty forest...
Page 535 - A shadow flits before me, Not thou, but like to thee; Ah Christ, that it were possible For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
Page 410 - DAYS of my youth, Ye have glided away; Hairs of my youth, Ye are frosted and gray; Eyes of my youth, Your keen sight is no more; Cheeks of my youth, Ye are furrowed all o'er; Strength of my youth, All your vigor is gone; Thoughts of my youth, Your gay visions are flown.
Page 640 - 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...
Page 642 - That the very stars in heaven Shook and trembled with his anguish. Then he sat down, still and speechless, On the bed of Minnehaha, At the feet of Laughing Water, At those willing feet, that never More would lightly run to meet him, Never more would lightly follow.

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