The Drawing-room magazine: or, Ladies book of fancy needlework and choice literature |
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Page 32
Thou, beauteous flow'r, a welcome guest, Shalt flourish on the fair-one's breast,
Shalt grace her hand, or deck her hair, The flow'r most sweet, the nymph most fair
; Breathe soft ye winds ! be calm ye skies ! Arise, ye flow'ry race arise !
Thou, beauteous flow'r, a welcome guest, Shalt flourish on the fair-one's breast,
Shalt grace her hand, or deck her hair, The flow'r most sweet, the nymph most fair
; Breathe soft ye winds ! be calm ye skies ! Arise, ye flow'ry race arise !
Page 79
The summer flowers ! the summer flowers ! those fair things bless'd of God, That
human life could pass away like their's upon the sod. 0 joyously ! how joyously
they light up hill and dale ! The purple heath upon his throne, the primrose in her
...
The summer flowers ! the summer flowers ! those fair things bless'd of God, That
human life could pass away like their's upon the sod. 0 joyously ! how joyously
they light up hill and dale ! The purple heath upon his throne, the primrose in her
...
Page 257
The winter flower That, whiter than the snow it blooms among, Droops its fair
head submissive to the power Of every angry blast that sweeps along Sparing
the lovely trembler, while the strong Majestic tenants of the leafless wood It levels
low.
The winter flower That, whiter than the snow it blooms among, Droops its fair
head submissive to the power Of every angry blast that sweeps along Sparing
the lovely trembler, while the strong Majestic tenants of the leafless wood It levels
low.
Page 259
So like are they to " pendent flakes of vegetative snow," and are fain to repeat the
beautiful lines of James Graham, author of " a Vision of Fair Spirits :" — " Cradled
in sorrow's bosom, ever thou While-vested Snowdrop, winter's orphan child, ...
So like are they to " pendent flakes of vegetative snow," and are fain to repeat the
beautiful lines of James Graham, author of " a Vision of Fair Spirits :" — " Cradled
in sorrow's bosom, ever thou While-vested Snowdrop, winter's orphan child, ...
Page 260
Comes floating on the Zephyr's wing, from where the Pixies hail their queen, and
frisk in many an antic ring, upon the sward so green : singing of the graces all,
and the virtues that attend on a maiden fair and small, thus he hails his lovely ...
Comes floating on the Zephyr's wing, from where the Pixies hail their queen, and
frisk in many an antic ring, upon the sward so green : singing of the graces all,
and the virtues that attend on a maiden fair and small, thus he hails his lovely ...
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Popular passages
Page 53 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon. Nor brought too long a day ; But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Page 386 - I loved Ophelia : forty thousand brothers Could not, with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.
Page 380 - He raised a sigh so piteous and profound As it did seem to shatter all his bulk And end his being. That done, he lets me go, And with his head over his shoulder turned He seemed to find his way without his eyes, For out o' doors he went without their help And to the last bended their light on me.
Page 321 - No, no, no life : Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all ? Thou'lt come no more. Never, never, never, never, never ! — Pray you undo this button : thank you, sir.
Page 113 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Page 106 - Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath...
Page 331 - Oh, Love! what is it in this world of ours Which makes it fatal to be loved? Ah why With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh? As those who dote on odours pluck the flowers, And place them on their breast — but place to die — Thus the frail beings we would fondly cherish Are laid within our bosoms but to perish.
Page 380 - Doubt thou the stars are fire ; Doubt that the sun doth move ; Doubt truth to be a liar ; But never doubt I love.
Page 24 - And should my youth, as youth is apt I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.
Page 107 - I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...