Poetry for children, selected by W. Burdon, 681 leidimas

Priekinis viršelis
William Burdon
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50 psl. - Then did the little maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the churchyard lie Beneath the churchyard tree.
10 psl. - The storm came on before its time : She wandered up and down ; And many a hill did Lucy climb ; But never reached the town.
28 psl. - tis to be an orphan boy. 0 were I by your bounty fed; — Nay, gentle lady, do not chide, Trust me, I mean to earn my bread — The sailor's orphan boy has pride. Lady, you weep!
45 psl. - No word to any man he utters, A-bed or up, to young or old ; But ever to himself he mutters, " Poor Harry Gill is very cold.'' A-bed or up, by night or day ; His teeth they chatter, chatter still. Now think, ye farmers all, I pray, Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill.
58 psl. - With you ! and quit my Susan's side ? With you ! " the hapless husband cried. " Young as I am, 'tis monstrous hard ! Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared; My thoughts on other matters go ; This is my wedding-day, you know.
24 psl. - Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran ; And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.
77 psl. - 'Tis some poor fellow's skull,' said he, ' Who fell in the great victory. ' I find them in the garden, For there's many here about ; And often when I go to plough The ploughshare turns them out. For many thousand men,' said he, 'Were slain in that great victory.' ' Now tell us what 'twas all about...
40 psl. - The neighbors tell, and tell you truly, His teeth they chatter, chatter still. At night, at morning, and at noon, 'Tis all the same with Harry Gill; Beneath the sun, beneath the moon, His teeth they chatter, chatter still.
50 psl. - Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.
49 psl. - That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair; — Her beauty made me glad. 'Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?' 'How many? Seven in all,' she said, And wondering looked at me.

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