Poetry for Home and SchoolG. P. Putnam's sons, 1881 - 320ÆäÀÌÁö |
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1 ÆäÀÌÁö
... come , When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum ; Then hush thee , my darling , take rest while you may , For strife comes with manhood , and waking with day . Sir Walter Scott . * 2 THE OLD MAN IN THE WOOD . There was an old ...
... come , When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum ; Then hush thee , my darling , take rest while you may , For strife comes with manhood , and waking with day . Sir Walter Scott . * 2 THE OLD MAN IN THE WOOD . There was an old ...
7 ÆäÀÌÁö
... comes with icy thumbs To ruffle up our wing ! Well - tell ! Where should I fly to , Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell ? Before a day was over , Home comes the rover , For mother's kiss - sweeter this Than any other thing . * 6 ...
... comes with icy thumbs To ruffle up our wing ! Well - tell ! Where should I fly to , Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell ? Before a day was over , Home comes the rover , For mother's kiss - sweeter this Than any other thing . * 6 ...
10 ÆäÀÌÁö
... come to my house any pleasant day . They don't have a good time , I think , their little faces Look so very solemn underneath each velvet hood . I wonder , don't they feel among the garden's airs and graces That shy cousin Violet is ...
... come to my house any pleasant day . They don't have a good time , I think , their little faces Look so very solemn underneath each velvet hood . I wonder , don't they feel among the garden's airs and graces That shy cousin Violet is ...
11 ÆäÀÌÁö
... Come , nestle now cosily under my wings . " So the hen said And the chickens all sped , As fast as they could to their nice feather bed ; And there let them sleep in their feathers so warm , While my little chick lies here on my arm ...
... Come , nestle now cosily under my wings . " So the hen said And the chickens all sped , As fast as they could to their nice feather bed ; And there let them sleep in their feathers so warm , While my little chick lies here on my arm ...
17 ÆäÀÌÁö
... come to grief if you try to go Where you never were made for going . Phabe Cary . * 14 * CHOOSING A BUILDING SPOT . " Chirp ! chipper ! twitter ! trill ! ¡± All on a morn of May , Lord and Lady Robin were out , So brave in their scarlet ...
... come to grief if you try to go Where you never were made for going . Phabe Cary . * 14 * CHOOSING A BUILDING SPOT . " Chirp ! chipper ! twitter ! trill ! ¡± All on a morn of May , Lord and Lady Robin were out , So brave in their scarlet ...
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Poetry for Home and School Anna Callender 1836-1911 Brackett, Ed,Ida M. Joint Ed Eliot ¹Ì¸®º¸±â ¾øÀ½ - 2016 |
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Alfred Tennyson beauty bells Belshazzar beneath birds bishop of Hereford blow bob-o'-link bold bower brave breath bright Camelot chee child clouds cried dark dead dear deep dost doth dream Earl earth eyes fair fairy father fear flowers fly away home G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS Gilpin green happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill Inchcape Rock Ivy green king Lady of Shalott Lady-bird land leaves light Little white Lily live look Lord loud Lycidas maiden meadow merry moon morning mother mountain never night o'er Queen quoth Ring Robin Hood rock rose round Samian wine shore silent sing sleep smile snow song soul sound Spink stars stormy stream summer sweet tell thee thou art thought tree Twas unto voice waves wild William Shakespeare William Wordsworth wind wings wood young youth
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289 ÆäÀÌÁö - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
275 ÆäÀÌÁö - Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
182 ÆäÀÌÁö - Tu-whit, tu-who ! a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit, tu-who...
291 ÆäÀÌÁö - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
243 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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 ?
177 ÆäÀÌÁö - The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare, Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
154 ÆäÀÌÁö - With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow To the full-voiced quire below In service high and anthems clear As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
87 ÆäÀÌÁö - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
172 ÆäÀÌÁö - Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate: For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
276 ÆäÀÌÁö - Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat — Come hither, come hither, come hither ! Here shall we see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i...