The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 27

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Atlantic Monthly Company, 1871 - Current events
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Page 281 - Another Athens shall arise, And to remoter time Bequeath, like sunset to the skies, The splendour of its prime; And leave, if nought so bright may live, All earth can take or Heaven can give.
Page 290 - O! why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven With spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men, as angels, without feminine; Or find some other way to generate Mankind?
Page 120 - GRANDMOTHER'S mother: her age, I guess, Thirteen summers, or something less; Girlish bust, but womanly air; Smooth, square forehead with uprolled hair; Lips that lover has never kissed ; Taper fingers and slender wrist; Hanging sleeves of stiff brocade; So they painted the little maid.
Page 399 - ... when A chunk of old red sandstone took him in the abdomen, And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor, And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more. For, in less time than I write it, every member did engage In a warfare with the remnants of a palaeozoic age; And the way they heaved those fossils in their anger was a sin, Till the skull of an old mammoth caved the head of Thompson in.
Page 306 - Then fill to-night, with hearts as light, To loves as gay and fleeting As bubbles that swim on the beaker's brim, And break on the lips while meeting.
Page 284 - Within its cloudy wings with sunfire garlanded, A divine work ! Athens diviner yet Gleamed with its crest of columns, on the will Of man, as on a mount of diamond, set; For thou wert, and thine all-creative skill Peopled with forms that mock the eternal dead In marble immortality, that hill Which was thine earliest throne and latest oracle.
Page 667 - I only hear above his place of rest Their tender undertone, The infinite longings of a troubled breast, The voice so like his own. There in seclusion and remote from men The wizard hand lies cold, Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen. And left the tale half told. Ah! who shall lift that wand of magic power, And the lost clew regain? The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower Unfinished must remain!
Page 121 - Yet in her cheek the hues are bright, Dainty colors of red and white, And in her slender shape are seen Hint and promise of stately mien. Look not on her with eyes of scorn, — Dorothy Q. was a lady born!
Page 398 - Now I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent To say another is an ass, — at least, to all intent ; Nor should the individual who happens to be meant Reply by heaving rocks at him to any great extent.
Page 121 - All my tenure of heart and hand, All my title to house and land; Mother and sister and child and wife And joy and sorrow and death and life I What if a hundred years ago Those close-shut lips had answered No...

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