The Listening Child: A Selection from the Stores of English Verse Made for the Youngest Readers and Hearers

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Macmillan, 1917 - 408 стор.
 

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Сторінка 60 - What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Сторінка 177 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Сторінка 265 - And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, " They are gone." The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.
Сторінка 75 - TOLL for the brave ! The brave that are no more ! All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore ! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was over-set ; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete.
Сторінка 158 - Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills. Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The Spirit he loves remains; And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
Сторінка 279 - Forward, the Light Brigade ! Charge for the guns ! " he said : Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade...
Сторінка 159 - I am the daughter of earth and water, And the nursling of the sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when, with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air...
Сторінка 5 - O ! then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Сторінка 72 - There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school; A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew ; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Сторінка 252 - I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves.

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