Overige edities - Alles bekijken
answered Gillie asked beautiful began breakfast bright brooklets brother Burlington Street CHAPTER child childhood church dark dear little boy delight disappointment door dread dull eagerly ENCELADUS everything exclaimed eyes face feeling garden gazing Gillie's gone hand happy hear heart Hobbs hope housekeeper idea innocence innocent eyes interest Jane says John Ramsay felt kitchen-garden knew Lady laugh light listened little fellow little Gillie little voice London looked Lord George Master Gilbert mind morning never night old Thompson once pleasant point pleasure poor Pryor Puppy quiet Ramsay's realised Rectory red leather chair remembered RICHARD BENTLEY round scarlatina seemed sigh sight silence singing sitting smile sorbed sort sound stood story tell terrace things thought told tower of Babel turbed turned Uncle John uncle's utilitarian voice weary wish wonder wood woodpecker words young
Pagina 54 - 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...
Pagina 65 - Where thoughts are singing swallows And the brooks of morning run. In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine, In your thoughts the brooklets flow, But in mine is the wind of Autumn, And the first fall of the snow. Ah ! what would the world be to us If the children were no more ? We should dread the desert behind us Worse than the dark before. What the leaves are to the forest, With light and air for food, Ere their sweet and...
Pagina 214 - But he who gives a slender mite, And gives to that which is out of sight, That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty Which runs through all and doth all unite, — The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms, The heart outstretches its eager palms, For a god goes with it and makes it store To the soul that was starving in darkness before.
Pagina 119 - But any man that walks the mead, In bud or blade, or bloom, may find, According as his humours lead, A meaning suited to his mind. And liberal applications lie In Art like Nature, dearest friend ; So 'twere to cramp its use, if I Should hook it to some useful end.
Pagina 188 - The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, In whatso we share with another's need; Not what we give, but what we share, ! For the gift without the giver is bare; Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me.
Pagina 301 - Our deeds still travel with us from afar, And what we have been makes us what we are.
Pagina 65 - Come to me, O ye children ! And whisper in my ear What the birds and the winds are singing In your sunny atmosphere. For what are all our contrivings. And the wisdom of our books. When compared with your caresses. And the gladness of your looks ? Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said ; For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead.