The Speaker's Garland, Band 4Penn Publishing Company, 1906 |
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Seite 25
... tears of mourning , the individual world eagerly pursues the phantom of hope , till death stops the chase and rolls them into the tomb . Dreaming of this , the peasant forgets his grief , and only seeks to become dear in his own circle ...
... tears of mourning , the individual world eagerly pursues the phantom of hope , till death stops the chase and rolls them into the tomb . Dreaming of this , the peasant forgets his grief , and only seeks to become dear in his own circle ...
Seite 32
... tears ; In the strong , rich soil of freedom , with a bounteous benison From their prophet , priest , and pioneer - our father , Wash- ington ! Above them floated echoes of the ruin and the wreck , Like " drums that beat at Louisburg ...
... tears ; In the strong , rich soil of freedom , with a bounteous benison From their prophet , priest , and pioneer - our father , Wash- ington ! Above them floated echoes of the ruin and the wreck , Like " drums that beat at Louisburg ...
Seite 43
... tears from weeping eyes ; Where winter melts in endless spring , And June stands near with deathless flowers ; Where we may hear the dear ones sing Who loved us in this world of ours ? I ask , and lo ! my cheeks are wet With tears for ...
... tears from weeping eyes ; Where winter melts in endless spring , And June stands near with deathless flowers ; Where we may hear the dear ones sing Who loved us in this world of ours ? I ask , and lo ! my cheeks are wet With tears for ...
Seite 44
P. Garrett. And yet , at times , my eyes are wet With tears for her I cannot see- Oh ! mother , art thou living yet , And dost thou still remember me ? JOSIAH AND FAMILY AT THE CENTENNIAL . EMMA M. JOHNSTON . While going the rounds of ...
P. Garrett. And yet , at times , my eyes are wet With tears for her I cannot see- Oh ! mother , art thou living yet , And dost thou still remember me ? JOSIAH AND FAMILY AT THE CENTENNIAL . EMMA M. JOHNSTON . While going the rounds of ...
Seite 48
... tears ! Poor old Margery Miller ! Sitting alone , Unsought , unknown , How could she stifle her sad heart's moan ? Soft on her ear fell the Christmas chimes , Bringing the thought of the dear old times , Like birds that sing of far ...
... tears ! Poor old Margery Miller ! Sitting alone , Unsought , unknown , How could she stifle her sad heart's moan ? Soft on her ear fell the Christmas chimes , Bringing the thought of the dear old times , Like birds that sing of far ...
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Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
ain't angels Anne Boleyn arms Asenath asked Babie Bell baby beautiful bless blood blue brave breast breath Bregenz brow catarrh Charlie Green cheek child cold cried dark deacon dead dear death Detroit Free Press Don Camillo door earth eyes face father fear feet flowers girl grave grew hair hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Jamie Douglas king kiss knew lady laugh light lips live looked Madame Roland Manchester Guardian Mayton Miltiades morning mother neath never night Noozell o'er poor Robin Gray round seemed shout silent sing smile song sorrow soul stood sweet tears tell thee There's things thou thought told turned Twas Tyrol voice vrom wait watch wave wife wild wind woman word young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 159 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Seite 83 - Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest : I see thee still ; And on thy blade, and dudgeon,* gouts of blood, Which was not so before. — There's no such thing ; It is the bloody business, which informs Thus to mine eyes.
Seite 143 - Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse ; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there...
Seite 151 - Never gave the enraptured air) There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering, And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, Out came the children running. All the little boys and girls, With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after The wonderful music with...
Seite 102 - The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, Sat by his fire and talked the night away, Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won.
Seite 31 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.
Seite 120 - The sum is this. If man's convenience, health, Or safety interfere, his rights and claims Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs, Else they are all — the meanest things that are, As free to live, and to enjoy that life, As God was free to form them at the first, Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.
Seite 72 - More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Seite 83 - They sin who tell us Love can die. With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity. In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell, Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell ; Earthly these passions of the Earth, They perish where they have their birth ; But Love is indestructible. Its holy flame for ever burneth, From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth...
Seite 134 - Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.