Poetry for Children: Consisting of Short Pieces to be Committed to MemoryLongman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1820 - 168 páginas |
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Página 12
... the landscape dark , Mute on a sudden is the lark ; But , when gleams the sun again O'er the pearl - besprinkled plain , Amd from behind his watery veil Looks through the thin descending hail , India . She mounts , and , lessening to the.
... the landscape dark , Mute on a sudden is the lark ; But , when gleams the sun again O'er the pearl - besprinkled plain , Amd from behind his watery veil Looks through the thin descending hail , India . She mounts , and , lessening to the.
Página 13
Consisting of Short Pieces to be Committed to Memory. India . She mounts , and , lessening to the sight , Salutes the blythe return of light , And high her tuneful track pursues ' Mid the dim rainbow's scattered hues . Beneath a willow ...
Consisting of Short Pieces to be Committed to Memory. India . She mounts , and , lessening to the sight , Salutes the blythe return of light , And high her tuneful track pursues ' Mid the dim rainbow's scattered hues . Beneath a willow ...
Página 52
... Mount o'er the vales , and seem to tread the sky ; Th ' eternal snows appear already past , And the first clouds are mountains seem the last : But , those attain'd , we tremble to survey The growing labours of the lengthen'd way ; Th ...
... Mount o'er the vales , and seem to tread the sky ; Th ' eternal snows appear already past , And the first clouds are mountains seem the last : But , those attain'd , we tremble to survey The growing labours of the lengthen'd way ; Th ...
Página 73
... the bending scythe is seen , Shaving the surface of the waving green , Of all her native pride disrobes the land , And meads lie waste before his sweeping hand ; H 74 Noon . While with the mounting sun the meadow Hay-Making.
... the bending scythe is seen , Shaving the surface of the waving green , Of all her native pride disrobes the land , And meads lie waste before his sweeping hand ; H 74 Noon . While with the mounting sun the meadow Hay-Making.
Página 74
... mounting sun the meadow glows , The fading herbage round he loosely throws . But if some sign portend a lasting shower , Th ' experienc'd swain forsees the coming hour ; His sun - burnt hands the scatt'ring fork forsake , And ruddy ...
... mounting sun the meadow glows , The fading herbage round he loosely throws . But if some sign portend a lasting shower , Th ' experienc'd swain forsees the coming hour ; His sun - burnt hands the scatt'ring fork forsake , And ruddy ...
Palavras e frases frequentes
ADDISON æther Alps beneath bird blessings bloom blows bosom bound bowers breast breath bright bursts busy Bee cheerful clouds cold courser crown'd delight descend desert dewy distant distant soil DRYDEN DRYDEN'S VIRGIL earth Ev'n ev'ry eyes father William flocks flood flower fragrant gale glory golden GRAMPUS green ground groves hare Hare and Tortoise heart heav'n herds hill Hippopotamus horns hyæna kiss of love lark light limbs lonely marmot mead morn mountains murmur night o'er Orphan Boy painted banks pass'd Piedmontese pine-apples plain POPE'S HOMER pride Propontis rage rise rocks roll rubies rich shade shepherd shining shore shower silver pheasant sings skies sleep smiling snow song soul sound spread spring storms stream stretch'd swain sweet swell tawny eagle tear tempest thee thou busy thro tide toil torrent tortoise tow'ring trees trembling vale verdant vernal waves wild winds wings Winter woods young youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 22 - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire.
Página 71 - See the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again ; The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Página 72 - Arcadian plain. Pure stream, in whose transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave ; No torrents stain thy limpid source ; No rocks impede thy dimpling course, That sweetly warbles o'er its bed, With white, round...
Página 107 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Página 141 - But who the melodies of morn can tell ? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side : The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean tide ; The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
Página 108 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Página 62 - By wintry famine roused, from all the tract Of horrid mountains which the shining Alps, And wavy Apennine, and Pyrenees, Branch out stupendous into distant lands ; Cruel as Death, and hungry as the grave, Burning for blood, bony, and gaunt, and grim, Assembling wolves in raging troops descend ; And, pouring o'er the country, bear along, Keen as the north-wind sweeps the glossy snow. All is their prize.
Página 88 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
Página 32 - And pleasures with youth pass away; And yet you lament not the days that are gone; Now tell me the reason, I pray."
Página 35 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny : You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face ; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.