Journal des demoiselles

כריכה קדמית
Bureau du journal, 1855
 

מה אומרים אנשים - כתיבת ביקורת

לא מצאנו ביקורות במקומות הרגילים

מהדורות אחרות - הצג הכל

מונחים וביטויים נפוצים

קטעים בולטים

עמוד 362 - Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear, How dark this world would be, If, when deceived and wounded here, We could not fly to Thee. The friends who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown ; And he who has but tears to give, Must weep those tears alone. But Thou wilt heal that broken heart, Which, like the plants that throw Their fragrance from the wounded part, Breathes sweetness out of woe.
עמוד 281 - Parmy les champs, les forests et les bois, Loin du tumulte et du bruit populaire; Et qui ne vend sa liberté pour plaire Aux passions des princes et des rois...
עמוד 281 - II ne se paist d'une espérance vaine, Nulle faveur ne le va décevant; De cent fureurs il n'a l'âme embrasée Et ne maudit sa jeunesse abusée, Quand il ne trouve à la fin que du vent.
עמוד 108 - What is that, Mother ? The swan, my love ! He is floating down, from his native grove ; No loved one, now, no nestling, nigh, He is floating down, by himself, to die; Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings, Yet the sweetest song, is the last, he sings. Live so, my love, that when death shall come, Swanlike and sweet, it may waft thee home!
עמוד 106 - WHAT IS THAT, MOTHER ? WHAT is that, Mother ? The lark, my child ! The morn has but just looked out, and smiled ; When he starts, from his humble, grassy nest, And is up and away, with the dew on his breast, And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure, bright sphere, To warble it out, in his Maker's ear : Ever my child, be thy morn's first lays, Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise. What is that, Mother...
עמוד 120 - AVRIL, l'honneur et des bois Et des mois, Avril, la douce espérance Des fruits qui sous le coton Du bouton Nourrissent leur jeune enfance ; Avril, l'honneur des prés verts, Jaunes, pers, Qui d'une humeur bigarrée Emaillent de mille fleurs De couleurs Leur...
עמוד 165 - Apollon à portes ouvertes Laisse indifféremment cueillir Les belles feuilles toujours vertes Qui gardent les noms de vieillir ; Mais l'art d'en faire des couronnes N'est pas su de toutes personnes , Et trois ou quatre seulement, Au nombre desquels on me range, Peuvent donner une louange Qui demeure éternellement.
עמוד 106 - ... on his breast, And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure bright sphere, To warble it out in his Maker's ear. Ever, my child ! be thy morn's first lays Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise. What is that, mother...
עמוד 363 - Come, brightly wafting through the gloom Our peace-branch from above ? Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows bright With more than rapture's ray ; As darkness shows us worlds of light We never saw by day ; WEEP NOT FOR THOSE.
עמוד 45 - Jetzo auf den schroffen Zinken Hängt sie, auf dem höchsten Grat', Wo die Felsen jäh versinken, Und verschwunden ist der Pfad. Unter sich die steile Höhe, Hinter sich des Feindes Nähe. Mit des Jammers stummen Blicken Fleht sie zu dem harten Mann, Fleht umsonst, denn loszudrücken Legt er schon den Bogen an ; Plötzlich aus der Felsenspalte Tritt der Geist, der Bergesalte. Und mit seinen Götterhänden Schützt er das gequälte Tier. „Mußt du Tod und Jammer senden", Ruft er, „bis herauf zu...

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