Chambers's Repository of Instructing and Amusing Tracts, Томи 10 – 12

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W. and R. Chambers, 1854

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Сторінка 4 - heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue "Whither, midst falling dew, Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. Seek'st thou the plashy brink
Сторінка 13 - Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands ; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with
Сторінка 14 - is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a thrashing-floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys ; He hears the parson pray and preach, ' ;] He hears his daughter's voice
Сторінка 19 - All was ended now! the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow ; All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing; All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience ! And as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured: 'Father, I thank
Сторінка 15 - is but an empty dream !' For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. And the grave is not its goal; ' Bust thou art, to dust returnest,
Сторінка 25 - But the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee ; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea. For
Сторінка 26 - as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken : Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door— Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from
Сторінка 16 - Acadians landed ; Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind from the north-east Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the banks of Newfoundland. Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city to city, From the cold lakes of the north to sultry southern savannas.

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