Our year: a child's book in prose and verse, by the author of 'John Halifax, gentleman'. |
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amusement apples basket beautiful Bilberries birds blackberries Blackbird Bow bells boys bright buds charlock child cider clover cold comes corn-field cowslip creatures creep cuckoo daisy Dick Dick Whittington drop eggs eyes fairy field flowers garden gather grass green grow hay-home hear hedge hedge-side Hermit crabs hop-picking hopping Jack-in-the-green keep lambs laughing leaves lichen live look Lord Mayor Lord Mayor's show Lotty loves Maid Marian Mayor of London meadows merrily morning mother nest never night nosegays numbers o'er Old Nag perhaps picking pleasant pluck pretty primrose quiet rain rainbow Robin Rooks round singing SIR RICHARD WHITTINGTON sleep snow soft sometimes sort spring stick strawberries summer Susie sweet tell things tree turn violets walk warm watch Waterloo-day waves Who'll whole wind wind-flowers winter wood YEAR'S HISTORY yellow
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Сторінка 127 - It was the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night, till I confess it began to be something of a bore to me.
Сторінка 246 - They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters ; These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.
Сторінка 107 - Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
Сторінка 246 - They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.
Сторінка 246 - They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble." "They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits
Сторінка 106 - The cuckoo's a fine bird, She sings as she flies, She brings us good tidings, And tells us no lies. She sucks the small birds' eggs To make her voice clear, And the more she sings " cuckoo,
Сторінка 184 - The good old boatman cried Unto the sullen, angry lads, Who vain obedience tried ; " Mind what your father says to you, And don't go out this tide. " Just such a shiny sea as this. Smooth as a pond, you'd say, And white gulls flying, and the crafts Down Channel making way ; And Isle of Wight, all glittering bright, Seen clear from Swanage Bay. " The Battery point, the Race beyond, Just as to-day you see : This was, I think, the very stone Where sat Dick, Dolly, and me ; She was our little sister,...
Сторінка 190 - But where Dick lies, God knows ! He'll find Our Dick at judgment day." — The boatman fell to mending nets, The boys ran off to play ; And the sun shone and the waves danced In quiet Swanage Bay.
Сторінка 47 - VIOLETS, violets, sweet March violets Sure as March comes, they'll come too, First the white and then the blue — Pretty violets ! "White, with just a pinky dye ; Blue, as little baby's eye, — So like violets. Though the rough wind shakes the house, Knocks about the budding boughs, There are violets. Though the passing snow-storms come, Frightening all the birdies dumb, Up spring violets : One by one among the grass, Saying " Pluck me ! " as we pass, — Scented violets.
Сторінка 86 - B., who sat hatching her eggs, And only just left them to stretch her poor legs, And pick for a minute the worm she preferred, Thought there never was seen such a beautiful bird.