Chatterbox, ed. by J.E. ClarkeJohn Erskine Clarke 1870 |
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Andrew Strong Ardéche arms asked baby Barlaam beautiful Berty Bessie better birds brother called Castle Street Chatterbox child church colour comfort cottage cried Cyrilla dear doctor door eyes face father Frau Scheringer Frendenberg Friedli friends Fritz garden girl give hand happy head hear heard heart Jack Jack Ward John Horden Josaphat Kathi kind king knew Leicester Square Leuchen live London looked master Mike mind morning mother never Newton Dale night once passed Paternoster Row Pestalozzi picture poor prince Proprietors by W Puss replied round Safors seemed sister Slow-worm snow Solothurn soon Springley stood Strangeways & Walden tears tell thing thought told took turned voice walk Weekly-One Halfpenny wife wish words workhouse young
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Сторінка 36 - Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.
Сторінка 269 - THERE is a flower, a little flower, With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky. The prouder beauties of the field In gay but quick succession shine, Race after race their honours yield, They flourish and decline. But this small flower, to Nature dear, While moons and stars their courses run, Wreathes the whole circle of the year, Companion of the Sun.
Сторінка 26 - Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.
Сторінка 342 - Yet more ! the billows and the depths have more ! High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast ! They hear not now the booming waters roar, The battle-thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave...
Сторінка 380 - MY boy, thou wilt dream the world is fair, And thy spirit will sigh to roam ; And thou must go ; but never, when there, Forget the light of home. Though pleasure may smile with a ray more bright, It dazzles to lead astray : Like the meteor's flash, 'twill deepen the night, When thou treadest the lonely way. But the hearth of home has a constant flame, And pure as vestal fire : 'Twill burn, 'twill burn, for ever the same, For nature feeds the pyre.
Сторінка 342 - Yet more, the Depths have more ! — What wealth untold, Far down, and shining through their stillness, lies ! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, Won from ten thousand royal Argosies. Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful Main...
Сторінка 307 - Give me three grains of corn, mother, Only three grains of corn ; It will keep the little life I have, Till the coming of the morn. I am dying of hunger and cold, mother, Dying of hunger and cold, And half the agony of such a death My lips have never told.
Сторінка 269 - The purple heath and golden broom, On moory mountains catch the gale, O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume, The violet in the vale; But...
Сторінка 310 - Deeper, deeper let us toil In the mines of knowledge ; Nature's wealth and learning's spoil Win from school and college; Delve we there for richer gems Than the stars of diadems.
Сторінка 62 - And everybody loved him so, Because he always told the truth, That every day, as he grew up, 'Twas said, " There goes the honest youth !'" And when the people that stood near Would turn to ask the reason why, The answer would be always this : " Because he never tells a lie.