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 29
20 psl.
... lip curved the while with scorn At thought of love ; and then , as one forlorn , He sighed , then bared his temples , dashed with gray . Then mocked , as one outworn and well blasé , III . A gorgeous tiger lily , flaming red , 20 COXO .
... lip curved the while with scorn At thought of love ; and then , as one forlorn , He sighed , then bared his temples , dashed with gray . Then mocked , as one outworn and well blasé , III . A gorgeous tiger lily , flaming red , 20 COXO .
34 psl.
... lips compressed , Scarce any blood came through , ) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two . IV . " Well , " cried he , " Emperor , by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon ! The marshal's in the market - place ...
... lips compressed , Scarce any blood came through , ) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two . IV . " Well , " cried he , " Emperor , by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon ! The marshal's in the market - place ...
37 psl.
... lips bathed in blood , And cold and livid brow ; Go , catch his wandering glance , and see There mirrored his soul's misery . - Go , hear what I have heard , - The sobs of sad despair , As memory's feeling fount hath stirred , And its ...
... lips bathed in blood , And cold and livid brow ; Go , catch his wandering glance , and see There mirrored his soul's misery . - Go , hear what I have heard , - The sobs of sad despair , As memory's feeling fount hath stirred , And its ...
50 psl.
... and thou , my own Achille ! " With quivering lip , but with no tear , or tear that gazers saw , These words , to all his heart held dear , thus wrote the brave Murat . Then of the locks which , dark and long , 50 THE DEATH OF MURAT .
... and thou , my own Achille ! " With quivering lip , but with no tear , or tear that gazers saw , These words , to all his heart held dear , thus wrote the brave Murat . Then of the locks which , dark and long , 50 THE DEATH OF MURAT .
54 psl.
... lip the blood . " Father ! " at length he murmured low , and wept like childhood then- Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men : - He thought on all his glorious hopes , on all his young renown ; Then flung the ...
... lip the blood . " Father ! " at length he murmured low , and wept like childhood then- Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men : - He thought on all his glorious hopes , on all his young renown ; Then flung the ...
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.