 Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the wayside, Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of her tresses!  The American Whig Review - Strana 1781848Úplné zobrazení - Podrobnosti o knize
 | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - 1859 - 724 str.
...was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the way-side, Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown snade of her tresses ! Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in the meadows. When in... | |
 | 1859 - 690 str.
...simplicity, his muse stoops to the absurd; as, when speaking of Evangeline, a delicate maiden, he says: " Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine (!) that feed in the meadows." We might quote very many more, but these few will amply suffice ; a " like," or an " as," or a metaphor... | |
 | Frederic Swartwout Cozzens - 1859 - 338 str.
...was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers, Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the way-side : Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the bro^n shade of her tresses." "Who can help repeating the familiar words of the idyl amid such scenery,... | |
 | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, John Gilbert - 1860 - 448 str.
...seventeen summers. Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the way -side, Block, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade...her tresses ! Sweet was her breath as the breath of kino that feed in the meadows. When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noontide Flagons... | |
 | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - 1863 - 484 str.
...was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the way-side, Black, yet how softly they...noontide Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth wag the maiden. Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from its turret Sprinkled with... | |
 | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - 1864 - 512 str.
...was she to behold, that maiden of terenteen summers. Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the way-side, Black, yet how softly they...noontide Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth wa« the maiden. Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from its turret Sprinkles the... | |
 | Chambers W. and R., ltd - 1865 - 252 str.
...was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the wayside — Black, yet how softly...the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noontide JFlagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth was the maiden. Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn,... | |
 | A V. Rose - 1865 - 100 str.
...as the berry that grows on the thorn ' sby the way-side, Black, yet how softly' 9 they gleamed2 ° beneath the brown shade of her tresses ! Sweet was...When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noon tide Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth was the maiden. Fairer was she when, on Sunday... | |
 | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - 1865 - 388 str.
...how softly they gleamed heneath the hrown shade of her tresses! Sweet was her hreath as the hreath of kine that feed in the meadows. When in the harvest heat she hore to the reapers at noontide Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth was the maiden. Fairer... | |
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