Poetry for beginners: a selection of short and easy poemsJames Cornwell 1870 |
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... never known so much interest evinced , or so much progress made , in the study of geography , as since we have employed these as our school - books . " - Educational Times . " We have not before met with a work so complete and original ...
... never known so much interest evinced , or so much progress made , in the study of geography , as since we have employed these as our school - books . " - Educational Times . " We have not before met with a work so complete and original ...
Side viii
... NEVER DESPAIR TO THE BRAMBLE FLOWER · • • Shakspeare Carrington Campbell Montgomery Clare . Aikin . Gould Shakspeare Shakspeare Scott PAGE 124 • 125 • · 126 126 · · 127 128 128 129 130 131 • 132 132 • Pollok • Rogers Sigourney ( Am ...
... NEVER DESPAIR TO THE BRAMBLE FLOWER · • • Shakspeare Carrington Campbell Montgomery Clare . Aikin . Gould Shakspeare Shakspeare Scott PAGE 124 • 125 • · 126 126 · · 127 128 128 129 130 131 • 132 132 • Pollok • Rogers Sigourney ( Am ...
Side 10
... never idles , but labours all day , And thinks ( wise little insect ! ) work better than play . The lark's singing gaily ; it loves the bright sun , And rejoices that now the gay spring has begun ; For the spring is so cheerful , I ...
... never idles , but labours all day , And thinks ( wise little insect ! ) work better than play . The lark's singing gaily ; it loves the bright sun , And rejoices that now the gay spring has begun ; For the spring is so cheerful , I ...
Side 12
... never find out if I took but just one— And they do look so good shining out in the sun ; There are hundreds and hundreds , and he wouldn't miss So paltry a little red apple as this . " He stretched forth his hand , but a low , mournful ...
... never find out if I took but just one— And they do look so good shining out in the sun ; There are hundreds and hundreds , and he wouldn't miss So paltry a little red apple as this . " He stretched forth his hand , but a low , mournful ...
Side 16
... never having seen in field or house The like , sat still and silent as a mouse ; Only projecting , with attention due , Her whiskered face , she asked him , " Who are you ? " On to the hall I went with pace not slow , But swift as ...
... never having seen in field or house The like , sat still and silent as a mouse ; Only projecting , with attention due , Her whiskered face , she asked him , " Who are you ? " On to the hall I went with pace not slow , But swift as ...
Almindelige termer og sætninger
arms beautiful bell beneath birds blessed blow blue brave breath bright brings called cheerful child clouds cold comes cried dark dead dear deep door drop eyes face fair fall father feel field flow flowers gently give grace green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hill holiday hope kiss ladies land leaves light living look Lord meet merry morn mother mountain nest never night o'er once passed play poor pretty rain rest rising rock rose round seen shining sing sleep smile snow soft song soon soul sound Speak spring stars storm summer sure sweet tear tell thee thing thou thought tree true turn Twas voice waves Where'er wild wind wish woods young youth
Populære passager
Side 122 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Side 135 - It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this scepter'd sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself: And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
Side 130 - O God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain ; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live.
Side 124 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee...
Side 122 - And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride : And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Side 60 - THE mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel; And the former called the latter ' Little Prig.' Bun replied, ' You are doubtless very big ; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track ; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither...
Side 134 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream ! " For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; " Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Side 24 - BREATHES there the man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well...
Side 25 - Not blither is the mountain roe: With many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow, That rises up like smoke. The storm came on before its time: She wandered up and down; And many a hill did Lucy climb: But never reached the town. The wretched parents all that night Went shouting far and wide; But there was neither sound nor sight To serve them for a guide. At day-break on a hill they stood That overlooked the moor; And thence they saw the bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. They...
Side 45 - Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.