Masterpieces of the World's Best Literature, Volum 2Jeannette Leonard Gilder Christian Herald, 1910 |
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Side 61
... a mournful sound . VII My brother gave that name to me When we were children twain ; When names acquired baptismally Were hard to utter as to see That life had any pain . VIII No shade was on us then , save one 61 THE PET NAME.
... a mournful sound . VII My brother gave that name to me When we were children twain ; When names acquired baptismally Were hard to utter as to see That life had any pain . VIII No shade was on us then , save one 61 THE PET NAME.
Side 66
... mat ? Anything like the sound of a rat Makes my heart go pit - a - pat ! " " Come in ! " - the Mayor cried , looking bigger : And ir did come the strangest figure ! His queer long coat from heel to head Was half 66 ROBERT BROWNING.
... mat ? Anything like the sound of a rat Makes my heart go pit - a - pat ! " " Come in ! " - the Mayor cried , looking bigger : And ir did come the strangest figure ! His queer long coat from heel to head Was half 66 ROBERT BROWNING.
Side 68
... pipe , I heard a sound as of scraping tripe , And putting apples , wondrous ripe , Into a cider press's gripe : And a moving away of pickle - tub boards , And a leaving ajar of conserve - cupboards , And 68 ROBERT BROWNING.
... pipe , I heard a sound as of scraping tripe , And putting apples , wondrous ripe , Into a cider press's gripe : And a moving away of pickle - tub boards , And a leaving ajar of conserve - cupboards , And 68 ROBERT BROWNING.
Side 81
... sound of dropping nuts is heard , though all the trees are still , And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill , The south wind searches for the flowers whose fra- grance late he bore , And sighs to find them in the wood and ...
... sound of dropping nuts is heard , though all the trees are still , And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill , The south wind searches for the flowers whose fra- grance late he bore , And sighs to find them in the wood and ...
Side 83
... sound Save his own dashings - yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes , since first The flight of years began , have laid them down In their last sleep - the dead reign there alone ! — So shalt thou rest ; and what if ...
... sound Save his own dashings - yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes , since first The flight of years began , have laid them down In their last sleep - the dead reign there alone ! — So shalt thou rest ; and what if ...
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Masterpieces of the World's Best Literature, Volum 2 Jeannette Leonard Gilder Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1905 |
Masterpieces of the World's Best Literature, Volum 2 Jeannette Leonard Gilder Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1910 |
Masterpieces of the World's Best Literature, Volum 2 Jeannette Leonard Gilder Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1905 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
Albert Edard answered arms Artemus Ward auld lang syne beauty bird born brave bright called Carlyle Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Chingachgook cried dark dead dear death Don Quixote dream earth eyes face father feel galloped gate Gilpin gladiator Glaucus Guarinos hand hath head hear heard heart Heathcliff Heaven hope horse hour Jane Jane Eyre John Gilpin King Lady Malkinshaw laugh light living look Lord Lydon Marlotes mind morning never night o'er Old Abe Pamby pilot poor pride retiarius river roar round Samian wine Sancho seemed silent sing sleep smile soul sound speak stood sweet tears tell Tetraides thawt thee things THOMAS CHATTERTON Thornfield Hall thou thought tion tree trumpet truth turned voice waters wild wind woods words Wuthering Heights
Populære avsnitt
Side 83 - Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix forever with the elements, To be a brother to the insensible rock And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon.
Side 6 - And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? ana what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain?
Side 163 - The mountains look on Marathon — And Marathon looks on the sea; And musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free; For standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ; And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations ; — all were his ! He counted them at break of day — And when the sun set where were they ? And where are they?
Side 170 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
Side 167 - The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye ! Whose agonies are evils of a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.
Side 133 - Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; How He, who bore in Heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay His head: How His first followers and servants sped ; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land: How he, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand ; And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command. Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope 'springs...
Side 127 - Ye banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie ! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry ; For there I took the last fareweel O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life Was my...
Side 132 - And sage experience bids me this declare— '' If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms, breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
Side 79 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue 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.
Side 163 - Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? Must we but blush? — Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopylae!