The Standard authors reader, arranged and annotated by the editor of 'Poetry for the young'. Standard iii, v-vii

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34 psl. - The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck. She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull.
46 psl. - The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun ; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest ; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising ; There are forty feeding like one...
34 psl. - And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land; It was the sound of the trampling surf On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.
9 psl. - Now, I shall be out of sight ; So through the valley and over the height, In silence I'll take my way ; I will not go on like that blustering train, The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, Who make so much bustle and noise in vain ; — But I'll be as busy as they.
64 psl. - Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
35 psl. - At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast. The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe!
33 psl. - Then leaped her cable's length. "Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale That ever wind did blow.
50 psl. - Kaspar's work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun; And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
33 psl. - He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat Against the stinging blast; He cut a rope from a broken spar, And bound her to the mast. " O father! I hear the church-bells ring, O say, what may it be ? " " 'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!
24 psl. - PANSIES, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises ; Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory ; Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story : There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine.

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