The Summer-land: A Southern StoryD. Appleton, 1855 - 264 من الصفحات |
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
acquaintance admiration Aggy Aidyl Aidyl St aristocratic asked Bagbale Batoosaloa beautiful Blackfield blue Bob St Bonavoine Bonnicoosa bonny boscage Brookwood carriage Casmery charming Chuckatubbie cigar Clotilde Clotilde Duvaloir cottage cotton crape-myrtle Crowood dark deep Deodar cedar Drawler dreamed dressed elegant euchre eyes Fally fancy Father Claude feel fiacre flowers forest French garden gentleman Ginswig gleamed Gog and Magog gray green hair hand Havana heart Jan Jered Janny Kentucky knew Landry laughing Lestocq lofty look luxuriant Madame Léonore Maggy Miss St Mlle Monsieur moonlight mother negro never night Orleans pale Paris parlor plantation planters play poor prairie prefêt Puckshenubbie rich Rosburn Sarah scene seat seemed shadow Sheldon Sherry Sherry Cocktail Shortstaple smile sort South Southern stage-coach talk tall thing thought tone Tuscumbia Tussaleega verandah village vines Vivian wild window woman wonder Yankee young ladies
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 1 - Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime...
الصفحة 159 - Will you walk into my parlor ? " said the spider to the fly, "'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy. The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, And I have many curious things to show when you are there." " Oh, no, no," said the little fly, " to ask me is in vain, For who goes up your winding stair, can ne'er come down again.
الصفحة 194 - ... and the calyx and the stamens and petals and pistils, I was thinking what beautiful hands she had and how dainty they looked, pulling the blossoms all to pieces. I am afraid I am commonplace, like the man we read of in English Literature, who said "a primrose by the river brim, a yellow primrose, was to him, and it was nothing more.
الصفحة 247 - Gormal's mossy towers, nor Starno shall Fingal behold. Deaths wander, like shadows, over his fiery soul ! Do I forget that beam of light, the white-handed daughter of -kings ? Go, son of Loda ; his words are wind to Fingal : wind, that, to and fro, drives the thistle, in autumn's dusky vale...
الصفحة 255 - ... should intrude on the gossamer fancies that the mind is weaving. Surely there are autumns in heaven ! for it is peculiarly the season of intellectual bliss. But no, there are no autumns there — the perennial spring joys of Beulah are never decayed by the destroying touch of time. And fall, with all its beauty, has with it — constitutes, perhaps, half its charm — the idea of evanescence, of decay : at best, the hectic glow of consumption.
الصفحة 41 - THE gray moonlight was casting grim, wavy shadows across the road ; the hoary leafless old tree stood out in bold relief in the mysterious half light reflected from their mossy trunks : like weird sprites invoking an incantation, they stretched out their bare scraggy arms into the dim moonlit sky, where their tiny twigs were twinkling indistinctly, blending into the air, and seeming to waver with a mysterious unnatural motion ; the whole forest melting away into an indefinable uncertainty of outline...
الصفحة 246 - Give me autumn, and its mild skies, gorgeous sunsets, and vari-hued forests. Season of mists and mellow fruitage! Its praises have been rung on every lip that loveth beauty. Hackneyed it never can be, for it is ever fresh, changing and lovely — in every change its magic dyes tinge...
الصفحة 247 - I arn always glad when autumn comes; always sorry when the icicle fingers of old winter efface the golden fairyweft webwork of indefinable fancies, which then weave themselves through the soul. 'Tis then that the whole being is full of a serene joy, a calm and exalted happiness, unalloyed with the base things of life. To me nothing is more exquisitely delicious than these dreamy autumnal reveries and sensations ; partaking of the hue of the hazy autumnal horizon, its dim dreamy infinitudes, partaking...
الصفحة 250 - ... pictures, but rarely in reality ; and the silvery sparkling sheen on the dark brook, the deep shadow under the old bridge, the low square turret of the chapel peeping up through the evergreens surrounding it, and the diamond panes of its narrow Gothic window, with the red glare of sunset reflected on them, all reminded me of one of those quaint, warmcolored pictures on the odd, old-fashioned china I used to see, standing in grim array, on the beaufort in the
الصفحة 248 - ... sombre autumn evening, perched on moss-mantled bough of ancient apple-tree, singing its lonely, low, sad wailing melody — a last lingering ray of the setting sun, gleaming on its fairy-tinted boddice of purple and blue ! Hear the plaintive wild song of distant slave,* homeward coming from labor ! Hark to the hum of the night-hawk, skimming over the deep, still water of the brook, now shadowed and sheened by evening's hues, with the fallen leaves dancing life-like on its stilly bosom, where...