Opinião das pessoas - Escrever uma crítica
Não foram encontradas quaisquer críticas nos locais habituais.
acorn beauty better bird bloom blue BOOKS breast breath bright bring brother child comes cried dark dear death deep dwell earth Edition Engravings extra cloth fair fall father fear flowers gentle gilt edges give glad gold golden gone grave green grow hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill holy hope Illustrations Jesus KING lady land leaf leaves light live lone look Lord lost morning mother nest never night o'er once pass pearls petrel play prayer pure rest rock round Royal 32mo sings sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars STORIES stream sweet tear tell thee things thou thought told tree true voice waters wave weep wild wind wing young youth
Página 55 - TOLL for the brave ! The brave that are no more ! All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore ! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was over-set ; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete.
Página 56 - With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Página 72 - I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place. 1 am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, — I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain My form with indifference see, They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me.
Página 121 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Página 73 - How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
Página 78 - That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad : Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; — Her beauty made me glad. 74 75 "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be ? " " How many? Seven in all," she said And wondering looked at me.
Página 73 - 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.
Página 110 - And children coming home from school, Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Página 84 - TEACH me, my God and King, In all things Thee to see, And what I do in anything To do it as for Thee.