Shoemaker's Best Selections for Readings and Recitations, Wydanie 5Penn Publishing Company, 1905 |
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Strona 9
... poor , thou pretty face ! Without gold what will avail thee , bloom of beauty , youth , and grace ? For a maid who has no dower- " and her curly head she shook : It was little Marit speaking to her image in the brook . More I heard not ...
... poor , thou pretty face ! Without gold what will avail thee , bloom of beauty , youth , and grace ? For a maid who has no dower- " and her curly head she shook : It was little Marit speaking to her image in the brook . More I heard not ...
Strona 11
... poor , thou pretty darling ! " cried I , frantic with delight , While she gazed upon me smiling , yet with eyes that tears made bright , " Let thy beauty be thy dower , and be mine to have and hold ; For a face as sweet as thou hast ...
... poor , thou pretty darling ! " cried I , frantic with delight , While she gazed upon me smiling , yet with eyes that tears made bright , " Let thy beauty be thy dower , and be mine to have and hold ; For a face as sweet as thou hast ...
Strona 13
... poor hus- band . At this Aristarchus dropped into a chair , and I went on and told the doctor about his ravings and my fears , and his final attempt to choke me to death . Aristarchus did not interrupt me , but his eyes seemed to grow ...
... poor hus- band . At this Aristarchus dropped into a chair , and I went on and told the doctor about his ravings and my fears , and his final attempt to choke me to death . Aristarchus did not interrupt me , but his eyes seemed to grow ...
Strona 32
... poor amongst the poorest , an infirm and weakly woman , living a solitary life , but ever upborne by a cheerful Christian content which is beautiful to see . " Why , I've nothing but what's good to say of my gracious Lord and Saviour ...
... poor amongst the poorest , an infirm and weakly woman , living a solitary life , but ever upborne by a cheerful Christian content which is beautiful to see . " Why , I've nothing but what's good to say of my gracious Lord and Saviour ...
Strona 62
... poor sick brother 66 Is asleep at last , at last . Asleep beneath the daisies ; But when the drenching rain Has put them out , we know the dew Will light them up again . And we make and keep Thanksgiving With the best the house affords ...
... poor sick brother 66 Is asleep at last , at last . Asleep beneath the daisies ; But when the drenching rain Has put them out , we know the dew Will light them up again . And we make and keep Thanksgiving With the best the house affords ...
Spis treści
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158 | |
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182 | |
188 | |
5 | |
12 | |
37 | |
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80 | |
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108 | |
195 | |
9 | |
17 | |
25 | |
56 | |
67 | |
74 | |
93 | |
102 | |
107 | |
118 | |
130 | |
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161 | |
200 | |
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
ALICE CARY Aristarchus arms Aunt Balaam beautiful Becket bless blue brave breath CHARLES DICKENS child corn Costello courser cried dark David Copperfield dead dear death Desaix door dream Euphemia eyes face father feet fell fire flowers girl glory gray hair hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Hepton hills Isam John of Salisbury Johnnie Miller King King Tee kiss knew lady land light lips live look Lord Mervane Middlerib morning mother Nestleton never night o'er Orlando pockets poor pray prayer rest Rosalind round shining side Sir Guy sleep smile Somers soul stand star stood sweet tears tell thee thing THOMAS À BECKET thou thought Trotwood turned Twas Uncle Ben voice wife wild Wildgrave wind Winkle woman wonder words
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 154 - 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...
Strona 183 - Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows ; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down : It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, Aud see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides . and tho...
Strona 33 - Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope.
Strona 137 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away...
Strona 54 - I am the daughter of earth and water, And the nursling of the sky ; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die.
Strona 73 - And it came to pass at noon, that Elijah mocked them, and said, Cry aloud : for he is a god ; either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth, and must be awaked.
Strona 34 - Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts of day. Not from the grand old masters, Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of Time.
Strona 155 - Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green; We sit in the warm shade and feel right well How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing That skies are clear and grass is growing; The breeze comes whispering in our ear, That dandelions are blossoming near, That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, That the river is bluer than the sky, That the robin is plastering his house hard by...
Strona 61 - God is not a man, that he should lie; Neither the son of man, that he should repent: Hath he said, and shall he not do it? Or hath he spoken, and shall he not make it good?
Strona 54 - May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these.