The Mother Tongue: An elementary English grammar, by G.L. Kittredge and S.L. Arnold

Przednia okładka
Ginn, 1901
 

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Strona 126 - The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
Strona 351 - Lord of himself, though not of lands ; And having nothing, yet hath all.
Strona 15 - Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Strona 286 - I arrived at Oxford with a stock of erudition, that might have puzzled a doctor, and a degree of ignorance, of which a school-boy would have been ashamed.
Strona 352 - The western waves of ebbing day Rolled o'er the glen their level way; Each purple peak, each flinty spire, Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow Within the dark ravines below, Where twined the path, in shadow hid, Round many a rocky pyramid...
Strona 158 - The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free ; We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea...
Strona 339 - ... all the while this eternal court is open to you, with its society, wide as the world, multitudinous as its days, the chosen, and the mighty, of every place and time ? Into that you may enter always; in that you may take fellowship and rank according to your wish; from that, once entered into it, you can never be...
Strona 140 - I'll fight with heart and hand.' Our English archers bent their bows, Their hearts were good and true ; At the first flight of arrows sent Full fourscore Scots they slew.
Strona 351 - CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill!
Strona 46 - It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek Like a meadow-gale of spring — It mingled strangely with my fears, Yet it felt like a welcoming. Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Yet she sailed softly too: Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze — On me alone it blew.

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