The Atlantic Monthly, Volumen56

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Atlantic Monthly Company, 1885

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Página 165 - Set a watch, O LORD, before my mouth ; keep the door of my lips.
Página 378 - There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ; The redbreast loves to build and warble there, And little footsteps lightly print the ground.
Página 31 - And said unto them, Whosoever shall receive this child in my name receiveth me: and whosoever shall receive me receiveth him that sent me: for he that is least among you all, the same shall be great.
Página 476 - Hence in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore...
Página 473 - As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet, This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat; And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line, That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine. Again, and once again, did I repeat the song : "Nay...
Página 475 - I was often unable to think of external things as having external existence, and I communed with all that I saw as something not apart from, but inherent in, my own immaterial nature. Many times while going to school have I grasped at a wall or tree to recall myself from this abyss of idealism to the reality.
Página 374 - I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Página 375 - With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie; poor venomous fool, Be angry, and dispatch.
Página 378 - Rapt into future times the bard begun: A Virgin shall conceive — a Virgin bear a Son ! From Jesse's root behold a Branch arise Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies: Th' Ethereal Spirit o'er its leaves shall move, And on its top descends the mystic Dove.
Página 408 - tis said) Before was never made, But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung. And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.

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