Homespun: Or, Five and Twenty Years AgoHurd and Houghton, 1867 - 346 pagina's |
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Pagina 55
... over the hill - sides , over the crests of the rolling tree - tops , and in the far - off blue of the heavens ; to hear His voice in every one of the - sounds of air and earth , and to feel SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY . 55.
... over the hill - sides , over the crests of the rolling tree - tops , and in the far - off blue of the heavens ; to hear His voice in every one of the - sounds of air and earth , and to feel SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY . 55.
Pagina 56
... voices to- gether ; the fiddle squeaking with excitement to get the lead , and the hard - working chorister , with quick eye thrown to one side and the other , actually singing down the whole ! As for the melody itself , so simple and ...
... voices to- gether ; the fiddle squeaking with excitement to get the lead , and the hard - working chorister , with quick eye thrown to one side and the other , actually singing down the whole ! As for the melody itself , so simple and ...
Pagina 59
... voices . The air holds , as Gray says , a " solemn stillness . " The vane on the meeting - house steeple seems to swim in the sky . Swallows are cleaving the air in chase of evening insects , and emitting that quick " chip - chip " of a ...
... voices . The air holds , as Gray says , a " solemn stillness . " The vane on the meeting - house steeple seems to swim in the sky . Swallows are cleaving the air in chase of evening insects , and emitting that quick " chip - chip " of a ...
Pagina 84
... voices throughout the rambling old realm ! What a musical tide of discordant noises , flowing out through the open doors over the yard ! Now the prince of the ring sails up to the big beam , just touching it with the tips of his toes ...
... voices throughout the rambling old realm ! What a musical tide of discordant noises , flowing out through the open doors over the yard ! Now the prince of the ring sails up to the big beam , just touching it with the tips of his toes ...
Pagina 86
... voices of insects , exiles from foreign fields , that cling to the hay - stalks as the last hope of lengthening their little life of summer . They utter cries burdened with an indescribable melancholy , echoing in the heart unspoken ...
... voices of insects , exiles from foreign fields , that cling to the hay - stalks as the last hope of lengthening their little life of summer . They utter cries burdened with an indescribable melancholy , echoing in the heart unspoken ...
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Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
afternoon alder allel autumn barn beautiful boys brookside brown houses cattle Chanticleer chilblains choly cial Cock-a-doodle-do comes corner country lawyer cows cranberry crowd deacons delight domestic door England eyes face family party farm farmers feel feet fire floor fresh garden gather geese genuine girls grass green hand hard head heart hearth hickory hill-sides hirsute homestead horse hour keep kitchen live look melan ment milk minister morning mother never night once pass pastures perhaps pleasant pleasure Pleiades Porringer Postmaster poultry rain ready road roof rows season sentiment side silent snow social soon sort soul sound spirit stand stove summer Sunday sweet talk tavern Thanksgiving things thought tion town trees turkeys voice wagons walls warm whole winter woods yard yellow young
Populaire passages
Pagina 174 - I'll be as certain to make him a good dish of meat, as I was to catch him. I'll now lead you to an honest ale-house where we shall find a cleanly room, lavender in the windows, and twenty ballads stuck about the wall...
Pagina 37 - God Almighty first planted a garden; and, indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures; it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man...
Pagina 48 - You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own ; What are you when the rose is blown ? So, when my mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, Tell me, if she were not design'd Th...
Pagina 171 - No, Sir ; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.
Pagina 37 - Almost all you see," said the good old man, " is the work of my own hands, though I am bordering on eighty years of age. My old woman does the weeding, and John mows the turf and digs for me ; but all the nicer work — the sowing, grafting, budding, transplanting, and the like — I trust to no other hand but my own — so long, at least, as my health will allow me to enjoy so pleasing an occupation ; and, in good sooth, the fruits here taste more sweet, and the flowers have a richer perfume, than...
Pagina i - Happy he whom neither wealth nor fashion, Nor the march of the encroaching city, Drives an exile From the hearth of his ancestral homestead. We may build more splendid habitations, Fill our rooms with paintings and with sculptures, But we cannot Buy with gold the old associations ! CATAWBA WINE.
Pagina 16 - Above the wood which grides and clangs Its leafless ribs and iron horns Together, in the drifts that pass To darken on the rolling brine That breaks the coast. But fetch the wine. Arrange the board and brim the glass; Bring in great logs and let them lie, To make a solid core of heat; Be cheerful-minded, talk and treat Of all things ev'n as he were by; We keep the day.
Pagina 43 - To be right in the rnidst of your own growing vegetables ; to behold the favorite sunflowers all turned to the east ; to watch the beansprouts, coming up with their twin leaves out of the cleft heart of the seed ; to shave down ranks of red-stemmed weeds with a single sweep of the bright hoe ; to brush your peas, pole your beans, set frames to support your cucumbers and tomatoes, trim your young hedges, hunt the bugs among the squash vines, and plan new paths through beds of vegetables and rows of...
Pagina 186 - Decws et tutamen in armis." There he is in the saddle now ! How proudly that best piece of horse-flesh in the county takes his martial paces across the turf he spurns ! How gayly glitter the epaulettes of his rider — how gracefully waves his plume — how noisily jingle his regimental trappings! He must assuredly feel as if the neck of his steed was