Poetry for Children: Consisting of Short Pieces to be Committed to MemoryLongman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1820 - 168 стор. |
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Сторінка 32
... father William , " the young man cried , " The few locks that are left you are gray : You are hale , father William , a hearty old man : Now tell me the reason , I pray . " " In the days of my youth , " father William replied , " I ...
... father William , " the young man cried , " The few locks that are left you are gray : You are hale , father William , a hearty old man : Now tell me the reason , I pray . " " In the days of my youth , " father William replied , " I ...
Сторінка 33
... father William replied , " I remember'd that youth could not last ; I thought of the future whatever I did , That I never might grieve for the past . ' " You are old , father William , " the young man cried , " And life must be hast ...
... father William replied , " I remember'd that youth could not last ; I thought of the future whatever I did , That I never might grieve for the past . ' " You are old , father William , " the young man cried , " And life must be hast ...
Сторінка 85
... father's love , no mother's joy , Nor kin nor kind to take my part . My lodging is the cold , cold ground ; I eat the bread of charity ; And when the kiss of love goes round There is no kiss , alas ! for me . I 86 The Orphan Boy . Yet ...
... father's love , no mother's joy , Nor kin nor kind to take my part . My lodging is the cold , cold ground ; I eat the bread of charity ; And when the kiss of love goes round There is no kiss , alas ! for me . I 86 The Orphan Boy . Yet ...
Сторінка 86
... father dear , A mother too I wont to prize , With ready hand to wipe the tear , If chanc'd a transient tear to rise ; But cause of tears was rarely found , For all my heart was youthful glee : And when the kiss of love went round , How ...
... father dear , A mother too I wont to prize , With ready hand to wipe the tear , If chanc'd a transient tear to rise ; But cause of tears was rarely found , For all my heart was youthful glee : And when the kiss of love went round , How ...
Сторінка 87
... father said he'd bring ; But ah ! it brought my father dead . My mother shriek'd : her heart was woe : She clasp'd me to her trembling knee . O God ! that you may never know How wild a kiss she gave to me ! But once again — but once ...
... father said he'd bring ; But ah ! it brought my father dead . My mother shriek'd : her heart was woe : She clasp'd me to her trembling knee . O God ! that you may never know How wild a kiss she gave to me ! But once again — but once ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
ADDISON æther Alps beneath bird blessings bloom blows bosom bound bowers breast breath bright bursts busy Bee cheerful clouds cold courser crown'd delight descend desert dewy distant distant soil DRYDEN DRYDEN'S VIRGIL earth Ev'n ev'ry eyes father William flocks flood flower fragrant gale glory golden GRAMPUS green ground groves hare Hare and Tortoise heart heav'n herds hill Hippopotamus horns hyæna kiss of love lark light limbs lonely marmot mead morn mountains murmur night o'er Orphan Boy painted banks pass'd Piedmontese pine-apples plain POPE'S HOMER pride Propontis rage rise rocks roll rubies rich shade shepherd shining shore shower silver pheasant sings skies sleep smiling snow song soul sound spread spring storms stream stretch'd swain sweet swell tawny eagle tear tempest thee thou busy thro tide toil torrent tortoise tow'ring trees trembling vale verdant vernal waves wild winds wings Winter woods young youth
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Сторінка 22 - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire.
Сторінка 71 - See the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again ; The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Сторінка 72 - Arcadian plain. Pure stream, in whose transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave ; No torrents stain thy limpid source ; No rocks impede thy dimpling course, That sweetly warbles o'er its bed, With white, round...
Сторінка 107 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Сторінка 141 - But who the melodies of morn can tell ? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side : The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean tide ; The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
Сторінка 108 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Сторінка 62 - By wintry famine roused, from all the tract Of horrid mountains which the shining Alps, And wavy Apennine, and Pyrenees, Branch out stupendous into distant lands ; Cruel as Death, and hungry as the grave, Burning for blood, bony, and gaunt, and grim, Assembling wolves in raging troops descend ; And, pouring o'er the country, bear along, Keen as the north-wind sweeps the glossy snow. All is their prize.
Сторінка 88 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
Сторінка 32 - And pleasures with youth pass away; And yet you lament not the days that are gone; Now tell me the reason, I pray."
Сторінка 35 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny : You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face ; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.