Appletons' Journal, Volume 1

Front Cover
D. Appleton and Company, 1876 - American literature
 

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Page 103 - As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
Page 231 - Light quirks of music, broken and uneven, Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heaven. On painted ceilings you devoutly stare, Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre, Or gilded clouds in fair expansion lie, And bring all Paradise before your eye. To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite, Who never mentions Hell to ears polite.
Page 141 - Go to the Ant, thou Sluggard, consider her ways, and be wise: which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.
Page 105 - The house-dog on his paws outspread Laid to the fire his drowsy head, The cat's dark silhouette on the wall A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; And, for the winter fireside meet, Between the andirons...
Page 103 - Come, let us plant the apple-tree. Cleave the tough greensward with the spade; Wide let its hollow bed be made; There gently lay the roots, and there Sift the dark mould with kindly care, And press it o'er them tenderly, As, round the sleeping infant's feet, We softly fold the cradle-sheet; So plant we the apple-tree.
Page 231 - Du Sueil has bound. Lo, some are vellum, and the rest as good For all his Lordship knows, but they are wood. For Locke or Milton 'tis in vain to look, These shelves admit not any modern book.
Page 363 - The glimmering shadows that lay half asleep between the door of the house and the public highway were a kind of spiritual medium, seen through which the edifice had not quite the aspect of belonging to the material world.
Page 182 - He has commonly a broad full face, curiously mottled with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding into every vessel of the skin...
Page 140 - Firm, on his own mountain vigour, relying, Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying, His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun, He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine, Onward, and upward, and true to the line. "What is that, Mother...
Page 231 - Another age shall see the golden ear Imbrown the slope, and nod on the parterre, Deep harvests bury all his pride has plann'd, And laughing Ceres reassume the land.

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