One Hundred Choice Selections in Poetry and Prose, 14–17 leidimaiP. Garrett & Company, 1879 |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 58
18 psl.
... fears . I can see her now with her bright head bent In the light which the taper so feebly lent . I can see her now with her fair , pure brow , And the dark locks pushed from her temples clear , And the liquid rays of her tender gaze ...
... fears . I can see her now with her bright head bent In the light which the taper so feebly lent . I can see her now with her fair , pure brow , And the dark locks pushed from her temples clear , And the liquid rays of her tender gaze ...
22 psl.
... fear ; Wave after wave comes thundering Against the strong stone pier ; Each with a terrible recoil , And a grim and gathering might , As blast on blast comes howling past , Each wild gust wilder than the last , All through that awful ...
... fear ; Wave after wave comes thundering Against the strong stone pier ; Each with a terrible recoil , And a grim and gathering might , As blast on blast comes howling past , Each wild gust wilder than the last , All through that awful ...
47 psl.
... fear ; Cold and hardship such work had done That few seemed frightened when death was near . Thus every soul on board went down-- Sailor and passenger , little and great ; The last that sank was a man of my town , A capital swimmer ...
... fear ; Cold and hardship such work had done That few seemed frightened when death was near . Thus every soul on board went down-- Sailor and passenger , little and great ; The last that sank was a man of my town , A capital swimmer ...
48 psl.
... fear , We each soon learned to know a little dear : Mat thought the world and more of Bessie Bell ; Hal loved a wealth of curls , her name was - Nell : Time came , at last , for us to say " good - bye " ; We left our dear ones , Mat and ...
... fear , We each soon learned to know a little dear : Mat thought the world and more of Bessie Bell ; Hal loved a wealth of curls , her name was - Nell : Time came , at last , for us to say " good - bye " ; We left our dear ones , Mat and ...
64 psl.
... fear They never yet have reached your knightly ear . What fair renown , what honor , what repute , Can come to you from starving this poor brute ? He who serves well and speaks not , merits more Than they who clamor loudest at the door ...
... fear They never yet have reached your knightly ear . What fair renown , what honor , what repute , Can come to you from starving this poor brute ? He who serves well and speaks not , merits more Than they who clamor loudest at the door ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
100 Choice Selections baby beautiful bell Belshazzar better bless breath Bregenz brow Brown Burdock child cold copy cried dark deacon dead dear death DIALOGUES Don Camillo door dream drink eyes face father feet flowers girl grave gray hair hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hullabaloo Irwin Russell Jamie Douglas King kiss knew lady laugh light lips Literary Nightmare live looked Lord Mark Twain morning mother never night o'er poor pray prayer Robin Gray rose seemed shout silent sleep Smike smile song soul Squeers stood street sweet tears tell thee There's things Thomas Dunn English thou thought told turned Twas Tyrol voice W. S. Gilbert wait watch wave wife wild wind woman word young
Populiarios ištraukos
104 psl. - 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 shewed how fields were won.
150 psl. - He was chubby and plump ; a right jolly old elf; And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings ; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle , But I heard him exclaim,...
78 psl. - Pray for my soul. 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 t For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
149 psl. - And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,— When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
61 psl. - Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil ; We talk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout, As if a hunt were up, And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier's cup. With merry songs we mock the wind That in the pine-top grieves, And slumber long and sweetly On beds of oaken leaves.
101 psl. - I see a bridge, said I, standing in the midst of the tide. The bridge thou seest, said he, is human life, consider it attentively. Upon a more leisurely survey of it, I found that it consisted of threescore and ten entire arches, with several broken arches, which added to those that were entire, made up the number about a hundred.
149 psl. - Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Dunder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch ! to the top of the wall ! Now dash away! dash away!...
36 psl. - You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away, On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind. Just as perhaps he mused "My plans That soar, to earth may fall, Let once my army-leader Lannes Waver at yonder wall...
136 psl. - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord...
104 psl. - Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.