The children's harp, or, Select poetry for the young1859 |
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Página viii
... Lost Day .. 82 ...... The Philosopher's Stone 84 Green Pastures 85 ..... Who made the Flowers ? Old Father William . Hope on ! Hope ever ! .. 86 88 90 The First - fruits .. CONTENTS . The Lark ....... viii CONTENTS .
... Lost Day .. 82 ...... The Philosopher's Stone 84 Green Pastures 85 ..... Who made the Flowers ? Old Father William . Hope on ! Hope ever ! .. 86 88 90 The First - fruits .. CONTENTS . The Lark ....... viii CONTENTS .
Página 82
... LOST DAY . LOST ! lost ! lost ! A gem of countless price , Cut from the living rock , And graved in Paradise ; Set round with three times eight Large diamonds , clear and bright , And each with sixty smaller ones , All changeful as the ...
... LOST DAY . LOST ! lost ! lost ! A gem of countless price , Cut from the living rock , And graved in Paradise ; Set round with three times eight Large diamonds , clear and bright , And each with sixty smaller ones , All changeful as the ...
Página 83
Children. A LOST DAY . Yet to my hand ' twas given A golden harp to buy , Such as the white - robed choir attune To deathless minstrelsy . Lost ! lost ! lost ! I feel all search is vain ; That gem of countless cost Can ne'er be mine ...
Children. A LOST DAY . Yet to my hand ' twas given A golden harp to buy , Such as the white - robed choir attune To deathless minstrelsy . Lost ! lost ! lost ! I feel all search is vain ; That gem of countless cost Can ne'er be mine ...
Página 123
... lost before , And , freshening all its depths , prepare For Truth divine to enter there . Till David touch'd his sacred lyre , In silence lay the unbreathing wire ; But when he swept its chords along , Even Angels stoop'd to hear that ...
... lost before , And , freshening all its depths , prepare For Truth divine to enter there . Till David touch'd his sacred lyre , In silence lay the unbreathing wire ; But when he swept its chords along , Even Angels stoop'd to hear that ...
Página 139
... -all Were shrouded ' neath the funeral pall . Then what is life ? A smile , And then a tear ! -a breath Just drawn , and lost in death ! Young for a little while , We sport on waves which o'er us surge ; Then 139 Life.
... -all Were shrouded ' neath the funeral pall . Then what is life ? A smile , And then a tear ! -a breath Just drawn , and lost in death ! Young for a little while , We sport on waves which o'er us surge ; Then 139 Life.
Palavras e frases frequentes
acorn ALBERT BARNES ALEXANDER SELKIRK beauty bird bloom breast breeze bright broken heart brother brow Clerkenwell cried dank and lone dark death dost dwell earth Edition ELIZA COOK Engravings extra cloth gilt FANNY FERN father William Fcap flowers gentle gilt edges glad gone-sold and gone grave green happy hath hear heaven HENRY VENN hills and waters holy Humming-bird JESUS JOHN TODD lady leaf LEGH RICHMOND light Little by little live Look aloft look'd LOVES ME BEST morning mother MUNGO PARK N. P. WILLIS nest never night o'er pearls petrel play prayer rice-swamp dank round Royal 32mo SEBA SMITH sigh Simoom sings sleep smile song sorrow soul stolen daughters STORIES Super-royal 32mo sweet T. S. ARTHUR tear thee thine thought tree Virginia's hills voice wave weep wild wind wing young youth
Passagens conhecidas
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.
Página 111 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice Singing in Paradise : He needs must think of her once more How in the grave she lies, And with his hard rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.