The Speaker's Garland: Comprising 100 Choice Selections ...Phineas Garrett Penn Publishing Company, 1878 |
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... thought are necessary . Here is the true Castilian fount . Drink deep thereof , and learn to be good and noble . Study well the book of Nature . There you will meet with wide ideas of beauty and grandeur , —and hold fellowship with Him ...
... thought are necessary . Here is the true Castilian fount . Drink deep thereof , and learn to be good and noble . Study well the book of Nature . There you will meet with wide ideas of beauty and grandeur , —and hold fellowship with Him ...
Страница 25
... thought , tumbles into the grave , only craving a wandering sigh when years have rolled away . The conspirator cuts the bands of civil law , touches the spring of revolution , and heaves whole empires into a sea of tears , that his name ...
... thought , tumbles into the grave , only craving a wandering sigh when years have rolled away . The conspirator cuts the bands of civil law , touches the spring of revolution , and heaves whole empires into a sea of tears , that his name ...
Страница 33
... thought Bridget was watching them ? Well , no , she isn't . I saw her talking to a man at the gate . He looked to me like a burglar . No doubt she let him take the impression of the door - key in wax , and then he'll get in and murder ...
... thought Bridget was watching them ? Well , no , she isn't . I saw her talking to a man at the gate . He looked to me like a burglar . No doubt she let him take the impression of the door - key in wax , and then he'll get in and murder ...
Страница 48
... thought of the dear old times , Like birds that sing of far distant climes ; Then swelled the flood of her pent - up grief , Swayed like a reed in the tempest brief , Her bowed form shook like an aspen leaf . Poor old Margery Miller ...
... thought of the dear old times , Like birds that sing of far distant climes ; Then swelled the flood of her pent - up grief , Swayed like a reed in the tempest brief , Her bowed form shook like an aspen leaf . Poor old Margery Miller ...
Страница 74
... thought you were keepin ' shop ? Well , by George , you're a ' cute soul , ain't you ? " Smith had to begin and think it over again , to get the run of it : " Mr. Thompson , sir ; perhaps it may not be unknown to you that , during the ...
... thought you were keepin ' shop ? Well , by George , you're a ' cute soul , ain't you ? " Smith had to begin and think it over again , to get the run of it : " Mr. Thompson , sir ; perhaps it may not be unknown to you that , during the ...
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ain't angels arms art thou asked Babie Bell baby beautiful Belshazzar Betsey better blace bless blood breast breath Bregenz brow Burdock catarrh cheek child cold cried dark deacon dead dear death Detroit Free Press door earth eyes face father fear feet flowers girl glory gone grave guilders hair hand hath head hear heard heart heaven heerd king kiss KITTY knew lady laugh light lips live look Lord Madame Roland Maria Jackson Miltiades morning mother neath never night o'er once Persimmons Peter poor replied Robin Gray round shout silent sing sleep Smike smile song sorrow soul stood sweet tears tell thee There's things thou thought told turned Twas voice vrom watch wave wife wind woman words young
Популярни откъси
Страница 149 - Never gave the enraptured air) There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering, And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, Out came the children running. All the little boys and girls, With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after The wonderful music with...
Страница 149 - Hark! they whisper; Angels say, Sister Spirit, come away. What is this absorbs me quite? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath? Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death? The world recedes: it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy Victory? O Death! where is thy Sting.
Страница 99 - I see a bridge, said I, standing in the midst of the tide. The bridge thou seest, said he, is human life ; consider it attentively. Upon a more leisurely survey of it, I found that it consisted of threescore and ten entire arches, with several broken arches, which, added to those that were entire, made up the number about an hundred.
Страница 148 - Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Cocking tails and pricking whiskers; Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, — Followed the piper for their lives.
Страница 104 - Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Страница 180 - Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife ! To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.
Страница 104 - The broken soldier kindly bade to stay, Sat by his fire, and talked the night away, Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won.
Страница 81 - I go, and it is done ; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven or to hell.
Страница 162 - 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. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry.
Страница 89 - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo ; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards with solemn round The bivouac of the dead.