Poetry for RepetitionHenry Twells Longman, Green, Longman, and Roberts, 1862 - 226 sider |
Fra bogen
Resultater 1-5 af 29
Side 9
... sleep so sound all night , mother , that I shall never wake , If you do not call me loud , when the day begins to break ; But I must gather knots of flowers , and buds , and garlands gay , For I'm to be Queen of the May , mother , I'm ...
... sleep so sound all night , mother , that I shall never wake , If you do not call me loud , when the day begins to break ; But I must gather knots of flowers , and buds , and garlands gay , For I'm to be Queen of the May , mother , I'm ...
Side 14
... sleep , As the bird beneath their eaves . The free fair Homes of England ! Long , long in hut and hall , May hearts of native proof be reared To guard each hallow'd wall ! And green for ever be the groves , And bright the flowery sod ...
... sleep , As the bird beneath their eaves . The free fair Homes of England ! Long , long in hut and hall , May hearts of native proof be reared To guard each hallow'd wall ! And green for ever be the groves , And bright the flowery sod ...
Side 23
... sleep , and the wounded to die- When , reposing that night on my pallet of straw , By the wolf - scaring faggot that guarded the slain , At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw , And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again ...
... sleep , and the wounded to die- When , reposing that night on my pallet of straw , By the wolf - scaring faggot that guarded the slain , At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw , And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again ...
Side 33
... sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him . " But half of our heavy task was done , When the clock toll'd the hour for retiring ; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing . Slowly and sadly we ...
... sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him . " But half of our heavy task was done , When the clock toll'd the hour for retiring ; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing . Slowly and sadly we ...
Side 47
... sleep- He never smiled again ! Hearts , in that time , closed o'er the trace Of vows once fondly pour'd , And strangers took the kinsman's place At many a joyous board ; Graves , which true love had bath'd with tears , Were left to ...
... sleep- He never smiled again ! Hearts , in that time , closed o'er the trace Of vows once fondly pour'd , And strangers took the kinsman's place At many a joyous board ; Graves , which true love had bath'd with tears , Were left to ...
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Andre udgaver - Se alle
Almindelige termer og sætninger
All's angelic songs battle Beau marked beneath birds bless blest bliss blood-hound Branksome Hall breast breath breeze bright brow Cæsar cheerful cried dark dead dear death deep doth dream e'en earth Eugene Aram fair father fear fire flowers Gelert glorious glow gone grace grave green hath hear heard heart heaven HEMANS hill holly tree honourable hour J. G. LOCKHART king knew land light live look look'd Lord LORD BYRON LORD MACAULAY morn mother ne'er never night o'er once pass'd plain praise prayer rest rose round shade shining sigh sight sing SIR WALTER SCOTT Skiddaw sleep smile song sorrow soul sound Star of Bethlehem stars stood storm sweet tears tears of thoughtful tell thee thine Thou art thought turn'd Twas village voice wandering waves weep wept wild yonder youth
Populære passager
Side 195 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
Side 86 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Side 196 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, . Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Side 5 - IT was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun; And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine. She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round Which he beside the rivulet In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found That was so large and smooth and round. Old Kaspar took it from the boy Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh "Tis some poor fellow's...
Side 25 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Side 134 - MY days among the Dead are past; Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old: My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day.
Side 79 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side ; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all; And, as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Side 200 - tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
Side 123 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's...
Side 211 - He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font, reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searcst, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest.