Biography and Poetical Remains of the Late Margaret Miller DavidsonLea and Blanchard, 1841 - 359 sider |
Fra bogen
Resultater 1-5 af 63
Side 15
... night , also , would seem to awaken a mysterious rapture in her infant bosom , and one of her early expressions in speaking of the stars was , that they " shone like the eyes of angels . " One of the most beautiful parts of the maternal ...
... night , also , would seem to awaken a mysterious rapture in her infant bosom , and one of her early expressions in speaking of the stars was , that they " shone like the eyes of angels . " One of the most beautiful parts of the maternal ...
Side 30
... night . " During this visit to New York she was the life and delight of the relatives with whom she resided , and they still retain a lively recollection of the intellectual nature of her sports among her youthful companions , and of ...
... night . " During this visit to New York she was the life and delight of the relatives with whom she resided , and they still retain a lively recollection of the intellectual nature of her sports among her youthful companions , and of ...
Side 52
... night . In this way she was exposed to the rigours of an unusually cold season ; yet she heeded them not , but returned home full of animation to join her little brothers in preparations for their holiday fête . Their anticipations of a ...
... night . In this way she was exposed to the rigours of an unusually cold season ; yet she heeded them not , but returned home full of animation to join her little brothers in preparations for their holiday fête . Their anticipations of a ...
Side 54
... that she was well , the irritating cough , the hectic flush , ( so often mistaken for the bloom of health , ) the hurried beating of the heart , and the drenching night perspirations confirmed 54 MISS MARGARET DAVIDSON .
... that she was well , the irritating cough , the hectic flush , ( so often mistaken for the bloom of health , ) the hurried beating of the heart , and the drenching night perspirations confirmed 54 MISS MARGARET DAVIDSON .
Side 55
Margaret Miller Davidson, Washington Irving. of the heart , and the drenching night perspirations confirmed me in ... nights spent in watching over her . Every sudden movement or emo- tion excited the hemorrhage . " Not a murmur ...
Margaret Miller Davidson, Washington Irving. of the heart , and the drenching night perspirations confirmed me in ... nights spent in watching over her . Every sudden movement or emo- tion excited the hemorrhage . " Not a murmur ...
Andre udgaver - Se alle
Biography and Poetical Remains of the Late Margaret Miller Davidson Margaret Davidson Begrænset visning - 2024 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
angel Ballston beam beautiful bloom Boabdil bosom breast breath bright brow burst calm cheek cheerful child clouds cold dark Davidson dear mother death deep delight dread dream Dutchess County earth earthly Emily Erstein fading fair fair brow fancy farewell father fear feel flowers gaze gentle glance glowing grief hand happy haste hath heart heaven heavenly Herman hope hour JOHN KEBLE Lake Champlain Lenore light look lyre Margaret MARGARET MILLER DAVIDSON Melanie mighty mind mingled Morna morning mourn ne'er neath never night o'er pain pale pass'd Plattsburgh pleasure poetic pride pure rapture rest Rhine Saranac scene seem'd seemed sigh silent sister sleep smile soft soothe sorrow soul sparkling spirit spring stream sweet sweetly tears tempest thee thine thou art thought tone trembling Twas Twill voice WASHINGTON IRVING waves weep wild wings young youth
Populære passager
Side 145 - WHEN I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
Side 57 - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And in clear dream, and solemn vision, Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heavenly habitants Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, The unpolluted temple of the mind, And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, Till all be made immortal.
Side 34 - I've watch'd the fresh'ning shower Bending the summer tree and flower, And felt my little heart beat high As the bright rainbow graced the sky. Could I but see thee once again, My own, my beautiful Champlain! And shall I never see thee more, My native lake, my much-loved shore? And must I bid a long adieu, My dear, my infant home, to you? Shall I not see thee once again, My own, my beautiful Champlain?
Side 229 - By this means it had remained standing for several hundred years, in defiance of storms and earthquakes, while almost all other buildings of the Moors had fallen to ruin and disappeared. This spell, the tradition went on to say, would last until the hand on the outer arch should reach down and grasp the key, when the whole pile would tumble to pieces, and all the treasures buried beneath it by the Moors would be revealed.
Side 98 - Tis a joyous hour of mirth and love, And my heart is overflowing ! Come, let us raise our thoughts above, While pure, and fresh, and glowing. 'T is the happiest day of the rolling year, But it comes in a robe of mourning Nor light, nor life, nor bloom is here Its icy shroud adorning. It comes when all around is dark, 'Tis meet it so should be, For its joy is the joy of the happy heart, The spirit's jubilee.
Side 55 - I hovered upon the borders of the grave; and when I arose from this bed of pain, so feeble that I could not sustain my own weight, it was to witness the rupture of a blood-vessel in her lungs, caused by exertions to suppress a cough. Oh, it was agony to see her thus! I was compelled to conceal every appearance of alarm, lest the agitation of her mind should produce fatal consequences. As I seated myself by her, she raised her speaking eyes to mine with a mournful, inquiring gaze; and as she read...
Side 141 - By the soft cords of heavenly love, When the vain cares of earth depart, And tuneful voices swell my heart, Then shall each word, each note I raise, Burst forth in pealing hymns of praise, And all not offered at His shrine, Dear mother, I will place on thine.
Side 34 - Thy verdant banks, thy lucid stream, Lit by the sun's resplendent beam, Reflect each bending tree so light Upon thy bounding bosom bright. Could I but see thee once again, My own, my beautiful Champlain! The little isles that deck thy breast, And calmly on thy bosom rest, How often, in my childish glee, I've sported round them, bright and free! Could I but see thee once again, My own, my beautiful Champlain!
Side 293 - Yes, mother, fifty years have fled, With rapid footsteps, o'er thy head ; Have past with all their motley train, And left thee on thy couch of pain ! How many smiles and sighs and tears, How many hopes and doubts and fears Have vanished with that lapse of years.