The Yale Literary Magazine, Volume 10,Edição 1

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Herrick & Noyes, 1844
 

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Página 46 - Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire, * Beyond the pomp of dress ; for loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is, when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most.
Página 47 - For thee I grew A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages. For thee I sought to borrow from each grace, And every muse, such attributes as lend Ideal charms to love. I thought of thee, And passion taught me poesy — of thee, And on the painter's canvas grew the life Of beauty!
Página 41 - To hear the lark begin his flight And singing startle the dull night From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise...
Página 41 - While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Página 41 - Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow Through the sweetbriar, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine: While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn-door, Stoutly struts his dames before...
Página 47 - Mantled around thy feet. And he doth give Thy voice of thunder, power to speak of him Eternally — bidding the lip of man Keep silence — and upon thy rocky altar pour Incense of awe-struck praise.
Página 24 - She is not rosy-finger'd, but swoln black. Her face is like a water turn'd to blood, And her sick head is bound about with clouds, As if she threaten'd night ere noon of day. It does not look as it would have a hail Or health wish'd in it, as on other morns.
Página 40 - Write the things which thou hast seen, and the things which are, and the things which shall be hereafter ; 20 The mystery of the seven stars which thou sawest in my right hand, and the seven golden candlesticks.
Página 24 - It is methinks a morning full of fate, It riseth slowly, as her sullen car Had all the weights of sleep and death hung at it. She is not rosy-finger'd, but swoln black.
Página 37 - And the Lord God formed man out of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul.

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