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Сторінка 27 - That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; — Her beauty made me glad. "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
Сторінка 23 - GOD, that madest earth and heaven, Darkness and light ; Who the day for toil hast given, For rest the night : May Thine angel-guards defend us, Slumber sweet Thy mercy send us, Holy dreams and hopes attend us, This livelong night.
Сторінка 57 - Through the calm and frosty air Of this morning bright and fair Eddying round and round they sink Softly, slowly...
Сторінка 14 - SPRING, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo...
Сторінка 28 - Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree." " You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive ; If two are in the churchyard laid, Then ye are only five." " Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied ; " Twelve steps or more from mother's door, And they are side by side.
Сторінка 58 - But the Kitten, how she starts, Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts ! First at one, and then its fellow, Just as light, and just as yellow ; There are many now — now one — Now they stop and there are none : What intenseness of desire In her upward eye of fire ! With a tiger-leap...
Сторінка 29 - But they are dead ; those two are dead ! Their spirits are in heaven !" Twas throwing words away ; for still The little Maid would have her will. And said, " Nay, we are seven !" * And all the summer dry.— Edit.
Сторінка 11 - O'er the pebbles at their feet, Are the words the waves repeat, Night and day ? Have you heard the robins singing, Little one, When the rosy dawn is breaking, — When 'tis done ? Have you heard the wooing breeze, In the blossomed orchard trees, And the drowsy hum of bees In the sun ? All the earth is full of music, Little May, — Bird, and bee, and water singing On its way. Let their silver voices fall On thy heart with happy call: " Praise the Lord, who loveth all,