The shower of pearls, a collection of poetry, original and selected, for schools, by C. PhillipsSimpkin, Marshall and Company, 1855 - 155 pagina's |
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Pagina 52
... brow he felt their breath , And in his waving hair ; And looked from that lone post of death , In still yet brave despair . And shouted but once more aloud , " My father must I stay ? " While o'er him fast through sail and shroud The ...
... brow he felt their breath , And in his waving hair ; And looked from that lone post of death , In still yet brave despair . And shouted but once more aloud , " My father must I stay ? " While o'er him fast through sail and shroud The ...
Pagina 76
... brow , And wish the shadows would faster creep , And long to go to thy quiet sleep . Well were it then if thine aching brow Were as free from sins and shame as now ; Well for thee if thy lip could tell A tale like this - of a day spent ...
... brow , And wish the shadows would faster creep , And long to go to thy quiet sleep . Well were it then if thine aching brow Were as free from sins and shame as now ; Well for thee if thy lip could tell A tale like this - of a day spent ...
Pagina 82
... a mighty man is he , With large and sinewy hands , And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands . His hair is crisp , and black , and long , His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat , He earns 82.
... a mighty man is he , With large and sinewy hands , And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands . His hair is crisp , and black , and long , His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat , He earns 82.
Pagina 83
Charlotte Phillips. His brow is wet with honest sweat , He earns whate'er he can , And looks the whole world in the face , For he owes not any man . Week in , week out , from morn to night , You can hear the bellows blow ; You can hear ...
Charlotte Phillips. His brow is wet with honest sweat , He earns whate'er he can , And looks the whole world in the face , For he owes not any man . Week in , week out , from morn to night , You can hear the bellows blow ; You can hear ...
Pagina 89
... brow , And clasp'd hands o'er it raised , For his father lay before him low ; ' Twas Cœur de Lion gazed ! And silently he strove With the workings of his breast But there's more in late repentant love , Then steel may keep suppressed ...
... brow , And clasp'd hands o'er it raised , For his father lay before him low ; ' Twas Cœur de Lion gazed ! And silently he strove With the workings of his breast But there's more in late repentant love , Then steel may keep suppressed ...
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
The Shower of Pearls, a Collection of Poetry, Original and Selected, for ... Charlotte Phillips Geen voorbeeld beschikbaar - 2015 |
The Shower of Pearls, a Collection of Poetry, Original and Selected, for ... Charlotte Phillips Geen voorbeeld beschikbaar - 2018 |
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
angel ANON Asshur beautiful beneath bird bitter woe Hear bless bless'd breast breath bright brow cheek child at sea cry Lama Sabacthani dark dear death DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB doth E'en earth EDMESTON Excelsior fair fear flowers fragrant gentle glad song Go when thy green grief hand happy hast thou Hear spirit voices heart heaven Heaven's gate heavenly holy inly cry Lama inly know Seasons JANE TAYLOR land little children LONGFELLOW Lord love and dreams loves me best morning mother murmur ne'er night Overcome sense pain pass'd Pompey's Pillar pray prayer red planet Mars replied Romulus and Remus Samian wine Saviour Seasons of bitter shine Shylock silent sing skies smile snow song sorrow soul Speak gently spirit voices low spring Star of Bethlehem summer sweet tear tell tempest thee thine thou hast thought tree weep wind wings woe Hear spirit
Populaire passages
Pagina 83 - His hair is crisp and black and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow : You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school, Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge,...
Pagina 112 - With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Pagina 92 - THE isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, — • Where grew the arts of war and peace,— Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set...
Pagina 126 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
Pagina 145 - New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray ; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice.
Pagina 93 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Pagina 65 - THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Pagina 45 - Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell." She answered, "Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea; "Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.
Pagina 64 - Not there, not there, my child !" " Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? Or midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange, bright birds on their starry wings Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ?" '. Not there, not there, my child...
Pagina 51 - The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck, Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm ; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form.