The New Mirror, المجلد 2George Pope Morris, Nathaniel Parker Willis Morris, Willis & Company, 1843 |
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aide-de-camp Almack's appeared arms Baudelot beautiful Broadway called Celestine centenarian charming child Chouan Count D'Orsay cried daguerreotype daugh daughter dear death delight door dress exclaimed eyes face fair fancy father feel flowers fortune Fritz Gaity gentleman Georges Sand girl give hand happy head heard heart heaven honour horse hour husband Italy Juliana lady laugh leave letter light lips live look Louis the fourteenth Macbeth Mademoiselle Malartic marriage married mind Mirror Miss Monsieur morning mother N. P. WILLIS Napoleon Nereid never New-York night o'er Odenwald once Onowahoo passed passion person poet poor present replied rococo sans-culottes seated seemed seen smile soon soul speak spirit sweet tears Teissier tell thee thing thou thought tion Titton took turned voice walk wife window wish woman words young
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 332 - O men with mothers and wives ! it is not linen you're wearing out, but human creatures' lives. Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! in poverty, hunger, and dirt ; sewing at once, with a double thread, a shroud as well as a shirt. " But why do I talk of Death ? that phantom of grisly bone ; I hardly fear his terrible shape, it seems so like my own. It seems so like my own, because of the fasts I keep...
الصفحة 332 - Work, work, work! From weary chime to chime ; Work, work, work, As prisoners work for crime : Band and gusset and seam, Seam and gusset and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand.
الصفحة 332 - Work - work work Till the brain begins to swim! Work - work - work Till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam , and gusset , and band , Band , and gusset , and seam , Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream! "O men with sisters dear! O men with mothers and wives! It is not linen you're wearing out , But human creatures
الصفحة 153 - I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er : Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ; Which must be acted, ere they may be scann'd.
الصفحة 268 - Some people say it is a very easy thing to get up of a cold morning. You have only, they tell you, to take the resolution ; and the thing is done. This may be very true ; just as a boy at school has only to take a flogging, and the thing is over. But we have not at all made up our minds upon it ; and we find it a very pleasant exercise to discuss the matter, candidly, before we get up. This at least is not idling, though it may be lying.
الصفحة 152 - I shall despair. — There is no creature loves me ; And, if I die, no soul will pity me : — Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself.
الصفحة 332 - WITH fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread, — • Stitch— stitch— stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt; And still with a voice of dolorous pitch She sang the "Song of the Shirt!
الصفحة 269 - ... that he has no merit in opposing it. Thomson the poet, who exclaims in his Seasons — Falsely luxurious ! Will not man awake? used to lie in bed till noon, because he said he had no motive in getting up. He could imagine the good of rising; but then he could also imagine the good of lying still; and his exclamation, it must be allowed, was made upon summer-time, not winter. We must proportion the argument to the individual character. A moneygetter may be drawn out of his bed by three or four...
الصفحة 332 - Oh! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet. With the sky above my head. And the grass beneath my feet ; For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal!
الصفحة 332 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread, — Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger and dirt; And still with a voice of dolorous pitch — Would that its tone could reach the rich ! — She sang the