New Recitations and Readings: A Choice Collection, which Has Been Selected with Great Care, ... and Comprising Prose and Poetry, Serious, Humorous, Pathetic, Comic, Temperance, Patriotic Selections, 1 leidimasJ.S. Ogilvie Publishing Company, 1893 - 254 psl. |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 41
14 psl.
... Twas the last fight at Fredericksburg- Perhaps the day you reck , Our boys , the Twenty - Second Maine , Kept Early's men in check . Just where Wade Hampton boomed away The fight went neck and neck . All day we held the weaker wing ...
... Twas the last fight at Fredericksburg- Perhaps the day you reck , Our boys , the Twenty - Second Maine , Kept Early's men in check . Just where Wade Hampton boomed away The fight went neck and neck . All day we held the weaker wing ...
18 psl.
... thus laid low ; " I was no foeman's arm that felled him , " Twas his own that struck the blow- His , who , pillowed on thy bosom , Turned aside from glory's ray- His , who , drunk with thy caresses , Madly 18 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA .
... thus laid low ; " I was no foeman's arm that felled him , " Twas his own that struck the blow- His , who , pillowed on thy bosom , Turned aside from glory's ray- His , who , drunk with thy caresses , Madly 18 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA .
22 psl.
... Twas he ! His face was leaning to her face ! I clutched my blade ; I sprang ; I caught my breath , And so stood leaning still as death . And they stood still . She blushed , then reached and tore The lily as she passed , and down the ...
... Twas he ! His face was leaning to her face ! I clutched my blade ; I sprang ; I caught my breath , And so stood leaning still as death . And they stood still . She blushed , then reached and tore The lily as she passed , and down the ...
27 psl.
... Twas a string of his Violincello , And they heard him stir in his bed : - " Make room for a tired little fellow , Kind God ! ” — was the last that he said . -Austin Dobson . Black Yer Boots . Black yer boots , sir ? shine ' em up ? Do ...
... Twas a string of his Violincello , And they heard him stir in his bed : - " Make room for a tired little fellow , Kind God ! ” — was the last that he said . -Austin Dobson . Black Yer Boots . Black yer boots , sir ? shine ' em up ? Do ...
41 psl.
... alone , Where with fleet step and joyous bound , thou oft hast borne me on ; And sitting down by some green well , I'll pause and sadly think , " Twas here he bow'd his glossy neck , when THE ARAB'S FAREWELL TO HIS HORSE . 41.
... alone , Where with fleet step and joyous bound , thou oft hast borne me on ; And sitting down by some green well , I'll pause and sadly think , " Twas here he bow'd his glossy neck , when THE ARAB'S FAREWELL TO HIS HORSE . 41.
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
New Recitations and Readings– A Choice Collection, which Has ..., 1 leidimas Peržiūra negalima - 1800 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ain't arter Babie Bell beaming hills Beau Belle blood blue blue veil brave brow cheek child cold Cooley cried Curfew dark dead dear door eyes face father fell feller fife fire flag of France folks Fontenoy gone Goody Blake gray gray hawks hair Haley hand Harry Gill head heard heart heaven heerd hill Hougomont ice-cream Joaquin Miller kiss light lips look ma'am Magovern morning mother never night o'er Orangeman Othello parrel Patty perliteness play poor prick red fox ring to-night Rip-rip-rip Rose Hartwick Thorpe round Saint Isadore shot shout side smile smoke stood sweet tears tell thee there's thing Thomas Dunn English thou thought told took town turned Twas voice Washington Market weary wife word young
Populiarios ištraukos
61 psl. - for Aix is in sight!' 'How they'll greet us!' — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
32 psl. - Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect — (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon!
61 psl. - So we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky ; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff, Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!
72 psl. - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon ; With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big, manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound.
41 psl. - The saint, who enjoyed the communion of heaven, The sinner, who dared to remain unforgiven; The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
148 psl. - Could any thing be more alluring Than an old hedge to Goody Blake ? And, now and then, it must be said, When her old bones were cold and chill, She left her fire, or left her bed, To seek the hedge of Harry Gill.
60 psl. - And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
41 psl. - The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne ; The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn ; The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.
45 psl. - Twas better for her that we should part, — Better the soberest, prosiest life Than a blasted home and a broken heart. I have seen her? Once: I was weak and spent On the dusty road: a carriage stopped: But little she dreamed, as on she went, Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped!
9 psl. - Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead. No rumor of the foe's advance Now swells upon the wind ; No troubled thought at midnight haunts Of loved ones left behind ; No vision of the morrow's strife The warrior's dream alarms ; No braying horn nor screaming fife At dawn shall call to arms.