North American Second Class Reader

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D. Burgess & Company, 1853
 

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Страница 135 - And what is so rare as a day in June ? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays : Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; Every clod feels a stir of might. An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
Страница 171 - The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have known a better day; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy.
Страница 276 - Charge for the golden lilies! upon them with the lance! A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snowwhite crest ; And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. Now, God be praised, the day is ours ! Mayenne hath turned his rein. D'Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish count is slain. Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale...
Страница 172 - Though born in such a high degree ; In pride of power, in beauty's bloom, Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb ! When kindness had his wants supplied, And the old man was gratified, Began to rise his minstrel pride ; And he began to talk anon, Of good Earl Francis, dead and gone, And of Earl Walter...
Страница 91 - SPEAK gently ; it is better far To rule by love than fear. Speak gently ; let no harsh words mar The good we might do here.
Страница 102 - I tell thee, thou'rt defied! And if thou saidst I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied...
Страница 128 - Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament ? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns?
Страница 135 - The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best...
Страница 130 - ... then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul, — then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear ; more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing.
Страница 128 - The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal — every other affliction to forget ; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open — this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude.

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