Graham's American Monthly Magazine of Literature, Art, and Fashion, Volume 46George R. Graham, Edgar Allan Poe, Charles Jacobs Peterson, Rufus Wilmot Griswold, Robert Taylor Conrad, Joseph Ripley Chandler, Bayard Taylor G.R. Graham, 1855 |
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American arms army beautiful bonnet Brantome called Carlyon character child color court Crimea dark death dress England English eyes face fashion father feelings flounces flowers Fort Snelling France French give gold Grace GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE guipure hand head heard heart Henry honor hope hour Jenny king labor lace ladies land leave letter light Liu Pi live look Lord marriage Mary of Lorraine Mary Stuart ment mind Molesworth morning mother muslin nature never night noble o'er Ojibways Paris passed poet poor present Queen Queen of Scots replied returned Rockbrook rose round Saint Paul Scotland seemed seen sent side silk smile soul spirit sweet tell thee thing thou thought threads of fate tion took trimmed turned voice Washington wife Wilmslow woman words worn young
Popular passages
Page 266 - Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Page 266 - Came through the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred. When can their glory fade ? O the wild charge they made ! All the world wondered. Honor the charge they made ! Honor the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred ! ALFRED TENNYSON.
Page 268 - Forward, the Light Brigade ! Charge for the guns ! " he said : Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade...
Page 510 - No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing, Play on, play on, My elfin John ! Toss the light ball, — bestride the stick, (I knew so many cakes would make him sick!) With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down, Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk, With many a lamb-like frisk. (He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown!) Thou pretty opening rose...
Page 137 - At length, my dear marquis, I am become a private citizen on the banks of the Potomac, and under the shadow of my own vine and my own fig-tree, free from the bustle of a camp, and the busy scenes of public life. I am solacing myself with those tranquil enjoyments, of which the soldier, who is ever in pursuit of fame, the statesman, whose watchful days and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of other countries, as if this globe was insufficient...
Page 510 - Thou pretty opening rose ! (Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose !) Balmy and breathing music like the South, (He really brings my heart into my mouth !) Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star, — (I wish that window had an iron bar !) Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove, — (I'll tell you what, my love, I cannot write unless he's sent above !) IV.
Page 345 - Small service is true service while it lasts; Of friends, however humble, scorn not one; . The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun.
Page 134 - Can you then consent to be the only sufferers by this revolution, and retiring from the field, grow old in poverty, wretchedness, and contempt ? Can you consent to wade through the vile mire of dependency, and owe the miserable remnant of that life to charity...
Page 323 - But different — everywhere the trace of men, Paths, homes, graves, ruins, from the lowest glen To where life shrinks from the fierce Alpine air. Gaze on them, till the tears shall dim thy sight, But keep that earlier, wilder image bright.
Page 132 - With a mixture of great surprise and astonishment I have read with attention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. Be assured, sir, no occurrence in the course of the war has given me more painful sensations than your information of there being such ideas existing in the army as you have expressed, and I must view with abhorrence and reprehend with severity.