Graham's Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 5, November 1841Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XIX, No. 5, November 1841
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
Vol. XIX. November, 1841. No. 5.
Contents
Fiction, Literature and Articles
The Ghost of Chew’s Wall
The Rowsevillers.—No. II
The Reefer of ’76
The Interesting Stranger
Shakspeare.—No. III
Wiccónsat
The Moonlight Flitting
A Chapter on Autography
The King’s Bride
Indian Traditions.—No. II
Sports and Pastimes.—The Fowling-Piece
Review of New Books
Poetry, Music and Fashion
The Pet Lamb
Flight of the Birds
Il Serenado di Venice
Ephemera
With Thee
Sonnets
I Never Have Been False to Thee
Merry England
Marriage
Never Shall My Heart Forget Thee!
Latest Fashions, November 1841
Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Eng. by H. S. Sadd, N.Y., _The Pet Lamb_ _Engraved
expressly for Graham’s Magazine_]
[Illustration]
* * * * *
GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
Vol. XIX. PHILADELPHIA: NOVEMBER, 1841. No. 5.
* * * * *
THE PET LAMB.
BY ALEXANDER A. IRVINE.
I saw her in her artlessness
All innocent and free,
And playfully a favored lamb
She fondled on her knee—
She seemed a vision of a dream,
A glory passing bright,
A being clothed in loveliness
As angels are in light!
Her tresses sported round about
Her snowy brow divine,
As flowers of the daffodil
Embrace a virgin shrine,—
Such purity was nestled there,
A Sybil’s it might be,
Forever beaming placidly
As starlight down at sea!
Her smile it had a witchery
To mortal ones unknown,
A language in its mirthfulness
Beyond a seraph’s tone:
It was as if the soul had come
From out its deep recess
And chose a dwelling in her eyes,
So pure their loveliness!
And softly on her pearly cheek
The dewy lashes lay;
Her lips were parted temptingly
To woo the breeze to stay;
Her snowy neck all droopingly
Defied the lily’s grace;
Her dimpled mouth—I dreamt of heav’n
In gazing on that face!
She fondled artlessly her pet;
She raised his tiny feet;
And toyed the garland on his neck;
And soothed him, when he bleat,
So sweetly that I might not hear
Unmoved that silver tone,
But longed to leave my hiding place
And woo her for my own.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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