Poetry for Home and School ...S.G. Simpkins, 1846 |
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Side xii
... • Trial before Reward The Bard · · Gray . Sleep • Miss Barrett . 80 88 82 83 • 89 Providence Arethusa · Herbert . • · • 91 Shelley . · • 93 · • · 61 62 838 63 The Cotter's Saturday Night Disdain returned • • Burns . xii CONTENTS .
... • Trial before Reward The Bard · · Gray . Sleep • Miss Barrett . 80 88 82 83 • 89 Providence Arethusa · Herbert . • · • 91 Shelley . · • 93 · • · 61 62 838 63 The Cotter's Saturday Night Disdain returned • • Burns . xii CONTENTS .
Side 2
... sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum ; Then hush thee , my darling , take rest while you may , For strife comes with manhood , and waking with day . THE REAPER'S CHILD.- Miss Lamb . If you go to 2 LULLABY ON AN INFANT CHIEF ...
... sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum ; Then hush thee , my darling , take rest while you may , For strife comes with manhood , and waking with day . THE REAPER'S CHILD.- Miss Lamb . If you go to 2 LULLABY ON AN INFANT CHIEF ...
Side 3
... sleeping ; Not the basket that holds the provision is less By the hard - working reaper , than this little sleeper , Regarded , till hunger does on the babe press . Then it opens its eyes , and it utters loud cries , Which its hard ...
... sleeping ; Not the basket that holds the provision is less By the hard - working reaper , than this little sleeper , Regarded , till hunger does on the babe press . Then it opens its eyes , and it utters loud cries , Which its hard ...
Side 6
... sleep ? Why look so pale , and so sad , as for ever Wishing to weep ? Ask me not this , little child , if you love me ; You are too bold ; I must obey my dear Father above me , And do as I'm told . Lady Moon , Lady Moon , where are you ...
... sleep ? Why look so pale , and so sad , as for ever Wishing to weep ? Ask me not this , little child , if you love me ; You are too bold ; I must obey my dear Father above me , And do as I'm told . Lady Moon , Lady Moon , where are you ...
Side 7
... Sleep , my love , upon my knee ; What though , dear child , we ' ve lost our mother , That can never trouble thee . You are but ten weeks old to - morrow ; What can you know of our loss ? The house is full enough of sorrow , Little baby ...
... Sleep , my love , upon my knee ; What though , dear child , we ' ve lost our mother , That can never trouble thee . You are but ten weeks old to - morrow ; What can you know of our loss ? The house is full enough of sorrow , Little baby ...
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Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
beauty beneath bird Birdie blessed bloom breast breath bright brow canst cheer child coursers Crocodile customed hill dark dear death delight dost doth E'en earth fair fairy father fear flowers fly away home glory gone grass grave green grief hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hill Inchcape Inchcape rock John Barleycorn King lady lady-bird land light live look Lord loud Mary Howitt maun merry mind mother mountain mourn ne'er never night numbers o'er Old English Poetry Patrick Spence poor praise Queen renegado rock rose round sail Samian wine shining shining book shore silent sing singing bee sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spring stars storm stream sweet tears tempests thee thine thing thou art thou hast thought top-mast tree voice wakeful eye wandering waves weep wild wind wings
Populære avsnitt
Side 70 - The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare, Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair ; The sunshine is a glorious birth ; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
Side 111 - Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go On the light fantastic toe, And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty ; And if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew To live with her, and live with thee In unreproved pleasures free...
Side 64 - Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
Side 128 - The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learned to stray; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Side 156 - SHE was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
Side 75 - And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves ! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might ; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway.
Side 162 - Strange, by my faith!' the Hermit said — 'And they answered not our cheer ! The planks look warped ! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! I never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were Brown skeletons of leaves that lag My forest-brook along; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below That eats the she-wolf's young.
Side 134 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Side 76 - God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Side 102 - I'll row you o'er the ferry.' By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men, Their trampling sounded nearer. ' O haste thee, haste ! ' the lady cries, 'Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.