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50 cents beat began bell bless Boards BOOK boys brave bright British called chair church Cloth cold comes Cossack Court cried curse dear Doctor door drink drum English entered eyes face fair fight friars gate gentle give gone grace hair hand head hear heard heart Heaven honest Hyacinthus Italy John kind King lady land leave light Lille looked Lord marched Mary never night o'er once pass peaceful Pimlico play POEMS poor pound pray Price 75 cents Prince prior Queen Rose round Royal Saint says Shannon shore sing smile spoke statue stood story Street sure sweet tell There's Thomas thou thought thousand took town true turned Twas twenty Vich vith wait write young
Strona 124 - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure: Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain!
Strona 90 - WERTHER had a love for Charlotte Such as words could never utter ; Would you know how first he met her ? She was cutting bread and butter. Charlotte was a married lady, And a moral man was Werther, And, for all the wealth of Indies, Would do nothing for to hurt her. So he sighed and pined and ogled, And Ms passion boiled and bubbled, Till he blew his silly brains out, And no more was by it troubled.
Strona 65 - Here let us sport, Boys, as we sit ; Laughter and wit Flashing so free. Life is but short— When we are gone, Let them sing on, . . . Round the old tree.
Strona 102 - THERE lived a sage in days of yore And he a handsome pigtail wore ; But wondered much and sorrowed more Because it hung behind him. He mused upon this curious case, And swore he'd change the pigtail's place, And have it hanging at his face, Not dangling there behind him. Says he, " The mystery I've found, — I'll turn me round.
Strona 64 - CHRISTMAS is here: Winds whistle shrill, Icy and chill, Little care we: Little we fear Weather without, Sheltered about The Mahogany Tree. Once on the boughs Birds of rare plume Sang, in its bloom; Night-birds are we: Here we carouse, Singing like them, Perched round the stem Of the jolly old tree.
Strona 78 - tis pleasant to you, Mend, and me. No better divan need the sultan require, Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire ; And 'tis wonderful, surely, what music you get From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet. That praying-rug came from a Turcoman's camp ; By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp ; A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn ; 'Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon.
Strona 226 - With grizzled beards at forty-five, As erst at twelve in corduroys. And if, in time of sacred youth, We learned at home to love and pray, Pray Heaven that early Love and Truth May never wholly pass away. And in the world, as in the school, I'd...
Strona 62 - I'd scarce a beard upon my face, And now a grizzled, grim old fogy, I sit and wait for Bouillabaisse. Where are you, old companions trusty Of early days, here met to dine I Come, waiter ! quick, a flagon crusty — I'll pledge them in the good old wine.