The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 7

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Atlantic Monthly Company, 1861
 

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Page 427 - And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake ; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood...
Page 287 - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me : To him my tale I teach.
Page 556 - Nevertheless I am continually with thee: Thou hast holden me by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, And afterward receive me to glory.
Page 20 - A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed in his flight Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
Page 19 - LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April in Seventy-five: Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year.
Page 21 - It was two by the village clock When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadows brown.
Page 427 - ... and said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb: For the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?
Page 21 - It was one by the village clock When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows...
Page 19 - and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war ; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide.
Page 547 - ... Gently, — as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream. Humble voyagers are we, Husband, wife, and children three — One is lost, — an angel, fled To the azure overhead. Touch us gently, Time ! We've not proud nor soaring wings : Our ambition, our content, Lies in simple things. Humble voyagers are we O'er life's dim unsounded sea, Seeking only some calm clime : — Touch us gently, gentle Time...

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