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Abencerrages admiration Andalusia appeared artist Bayton beautiful beneath Benjamin Loder better Bosphorus called character Charley charming clouds daguerreotype daguerreotypist dark delight diablerie Doem door dream earth Elihu H eyes face fancy father fear feeling feet flowers gaze gentleman give Granada grave hand Harry Broome head heard heart heaven horse hour Hudson River John Biggs John Durand Knickerbocker KNICKERBOCKER MAGAZINE lady leaves light live look Millerites mind Moorish morning mother nature never New-York night o'er once passed Piermont pleasant pleasure poems present reader river Rodolphe rose round scene seemed seen Simeon smile soon soul Spain spirit stars stood sure sweet tell thee thing thou thought tion took trees truth turn Venison voice volume walk wonder words young
Page 220 - They shall run to and fro in the city; they shall run upon the wall, they shall climb up upon the houses; they shall enter in at the windows like a thief. The earth shall quake before them; the heavens shall tremble: the sun and the moon shall be dark, and the stars shall withdraw their shining...
Page 150 - BEHOLD, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks : Thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.
Page 152 - The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on time's string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternal glorious King. On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope ; Blessings are plentiful and rife — More plentiful than hope.
Page 151 - Lie not ; but let thy heart be true to God, Thy mouth to it, thy actions to them both : Cowards tell lies, and those that fear the rod ; The stormy working soul spits lies and froth. Dare to be true. Nothing can need a lie : A fault, which needs it most, grows two thereby.
Page 92 - I'll venture; for my new-enlivened spirits Prompt me, and they perhaps are not far off. Song. Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale Where the lovelorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well: Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair That likest thy Narcissus are?
Page 398 - O call it not fat! but an indefinable sweetness growing up to it — the tender blossoming of fat, fat cropped in the bud, taken in the shoot, in the first innocence, the cream and quintessence of the child-pig's yet pure food — the lean, no lean, but a kind of animal manna, or rather, fat and lean (if it must be so) so blended and running into each other, that both together make but one ambrosian result or common substance. Behold him while he is " doing "; it seemeth rather a refreshing warmth...
Page 435 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound Save his own dashings...
Page 330 - Listen, 0 my son! There is no wisdom equal unto the belief in God ! He created the world, and shall we liken ourselves unto Him in seeking to penetrate into the mysteries of His creation? Shall we say, Behold this star spinneth round that star, and this other star with a tail goeth and cometh in so many years! Let it go! He from whose hand it came will guide and direct it.