Putnam's Monthly, Volume 9

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G.P. Putnam & Company, 1857

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Page 312 - The face of the Lord is against them that do evil, to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth.
Page 151 - In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care.
Page 36 - For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell, Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Page 28 - Women know The way to rear up children (to be just) ; They know a simple, merry, tender knack Of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, And stringing pretty words that make no sense, And kissing full sense into empty words ; Which things are corals to cut life upon, Although such trifles...
Page 236 - Sheer o'er the crystal battlements : from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer's day ; and with the setting sun Dropt from the zenith like a falling star...
Page 371 - WE knew it would rain, for all the morn, A spirit on slender ropes of mist Was lowering its golden buckets down Into the vapory amethyst Of marshes and swamps and dismal fens — Scooping the dew that lay in the flowers, Dipping the jewels out of the sea, To scatter them over the land in showers.
Page 557 - No matter in what language his doom may have been pronounced ;—no matter what complexion incompatible with freedom, an Indian or an African sun may have...
Page 564 - Whither shall I go from thy spirit ? or whither shall I flee from thy presence ? If I ascend up to heaven, thou art there ; if I make my bed in hell, behold thou art there.
Page 237 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite ; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, or any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 37 - I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine...

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