Playtime with the poets: a selection of the best English poetry for the use of children, by a lady

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Страница 34 - Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said; Into the valley of death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!
Страница 183 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave! For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
Страница 151 - The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, Yet he cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner.
Страница 35 - Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of hell Rode the six hundred. Flash'd all their sabres bare, Flash'd as they turn'd in air Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd. Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the sabre-stroke Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Страница 159 - Beyond the shadow of the ship, I watched the water-snakes: They moved in tracks of shining white, And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire: Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam; and every track Was a flash of golden fire.
Страница 168 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Страница 200 - Then shook the hills with thunder riven. Then rushed the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven, Far flashed the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow, On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulphurous canopy.
Страница 190 - The bride at the altar ; Leave the deer, leave the steer, Leave nets and barges : Come with your fighting gear, Broadswords and targes. Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended, Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded : Faster come, faster come, Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come ; See how they gather ! Wide waves the eagle plume Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set ! Pibroch...
Страница 196 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Страница 157 - Within the nether tip. One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, Too quick for groan or sigh, Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, And cursed me with his eye.

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