The Yale Literary Magazine, المجلد 24

الغلاف الأمامي
1859

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الصفحة 82 - For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be ; Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails, Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales ; Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rained a ghastly dew From the nations...
الصفحة 172 - Read from some humbler poet. Whose songs gushed from his heart. As showers from the clouds of summer. Or tears from the eyelids start; Who, through long days of labor. And nights devoid of ease. Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies.
الصفحة 21 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
الصفحة 168 - Some useful plan or book could make, Or sing a sang at least.
الصفحة 83 - tis well that I should bluster! — Hadst thou less unworthy proved — Would to God — for I had loved thee more than ever wife was loved. Am I mad, that I should cherish that which bears but bitter fruit ? I will pluck it from my bosom, though my heart be at the root.
الصفحة 161 - In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world. There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law.
الصفحة 227 - I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling.
الصفحة 21 - ... these cannot expire; — These shall resist the empire of decay, When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away; Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, But that which warmed it once can never die.
الصفحة 81 - Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.
الصفحة 124 - IN tattered old slippers that toast at the bars, And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars, Away from the world and its toils and its cares, I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs. To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure, But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure ; And the view I behold on a sunshiny day Is grand through the chimney-pots over the way. This snug little chamber is...

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