Poetic reader, for the use of schools, 2 dalis1881 |
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8 psl.
... , Gossiping in yonder glen , Heedless of the cuckoo's lay , " Woods all green , oh , come away . ” Now , all lovely things combine To create a sense divine : THE SUMMER WOODS . Young grass sweetens much the sight POETIC READER .
... , Gossiping in yonder glen , Heedless of the cuckoo's lay , " Woods all green , oh , come away . ” Now , all lovely things combine To create a sense divine : THE SUMMER WOODS . Young grass sweetens much the sight POETIC READER .
10 psl.
... green cuckoo cuckooing , Your little mimic voices stirs to music as ye go . See there , the glimpse of grassy dales Is gleaming through the larches , And here , like dim cathedral aisles , The gloom of beechen arches ; The heather grows ...
... green cuckoo cuckooing , Your little mimic voices stirs to music as ye go . See there , the glimpse of grassy dales Is gleaming through the larches , And here , like dim cathedral aisles , The gloom of beechen arches ; The heather grows ...
13 psl.
... green solitudes Of the deep , shady woods , Thy lot is kindly cast , and life to thee Is like a gust of rarest minstrelsy . The winds of May and June Hum many a tender tune , Flowing above thy leafy hiding - place , Kissing , all ...
... green solitudes Of the deep , shady woods , Thy lot is kindly cast , and life to thee Is like a gust of rarest minstrelsy . The winds of May and June Hum many a tender tune , Flowing above thy leafy hiding - place , Kissing , all ...
16 psl.
... green and gleaming . Cold and tempestuous ocean , Ragged rock , brine - swept , and lonely , Grasp of the long bitter winter , — These things to gladden me only ! CELIA THAXTER . DECEMBER . 17 DECEMBER . WHITE are the fields , 16 POETIC ...
... green and gleaming . Cold and tempestuous ocean , Ragged rock , brine - swept , and lonely , Grasp of the long bitter winter , — These things to gladden me only ! CELIA THAXTER . DECEMBER . 17 DECEMBER . WHITE are the fields , 16 POETIC ...
20 psl.
... green , With a smile and smirk on their way to the kirk , What a skelloching hulla - baloo would arise As the Rookery emptied into the skies : For the gossiping rooks without papers or books Know all the news of the country side— Croak ...
... green , With a smile and smirk on their way to the kirk , What a skelloching hulla - baloo would arise As the Rookery emptied into the skies : For the gossiping rooks without papers or books Know all the news of the country side— Croak ...
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Alcinous ALICE CARY beauty bells beneath Bill bird blow brave breath bright CELIA THAXTER CHARLES WARREN STODDARD cloud crimson dark dark waves dead dream earth EMMA LAZARUS eyes face fair flowers Frankie Gallop gaze Glad song gleam glides gold golden GRANDPÈRE green grow Haco hand Hark hath head heart heaven HENRY GRINNELL hill JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER labour LAING PURVES land light little Wren look maidens merry mighty morning murmur Nausicaa nest night o'er peace Pilgrim PILGRIM FATHERS Poems proud rain roar ROBERT BUCHANAN rocks round rush sail shining shore shout showers sight sing smile soft softly song soul sound Spring star steed storm stream summer summers rolled sweet thee thou thro thrush tossed trees Twas voice waters waters dividing waves are free weary wide waves wild wind wings Winter woods yellow
Populiarios ištraukos
207 psl. - The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.
207 psl. - The Last Leaf I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan, And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, "They are gone.
104 psl. - Last night, among his fellow roughs, He jested, quaffed, and swore, A drunken private of the Buffs, Who never looked before. To-day, beneath the foeman's frown, He stands in Elgin's place, Ambassador from Britain's crown, And type of all her race.
80 psl. - The pilgrim spirit has not fled : It walks in noon's broad light ; And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, With the holy stars, by night. It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, And shall guard this ice-bound shore, Till the waves of the bay, where the May-Flower lay, Shall foam and freeze no more.
208 psl. - My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady ! she is dead Long ago — That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here ; But the old three-cornered hat And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer ! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree • In the spring, Let them smile, as I do...
80 psl. - The Pilgrim exile — sainted name ! — The hill, whose icy brow Rejoiced when he came, in the morning's flame, In the morning's flame burns now ; And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night On the hill-side and the sea, Still lies where he laid his houseless head ; — But the Pilgrim — where is he ? 4.
32 psl. - HARK ! I hear the tramp of thousands, And of armed men the hum ; Lo ! a nation's hosts have gathered Round the quick alarming drum, — Saying, " Come, Freemen, come ! Ere your heritage be wasted," said the quick alarming drum. " Let me of my heart take counsel : War is not of life the sum ; Who shall stay and reap the harvest When the autumn days shall come ? " But the drum Echoed, " Come ! Death shall reap the braver harvest," said the solemnsounding drum.
79 psl. - THE Pilgrim Fathers — where are they? The waves that brought them o'er Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray, As they break along the shore ; Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day, When the Mayflower moored below, When the sea around was black with storms, And white the shore with snow.
223 psl. - There is place and enough for the pains of prose ; But whenever the May-blood stirs and glows, And the young year draws to the
33 psl. - Thus they answered, — hoping, fearing, Some in faith, and doubting some, Till a trumpet-voice proclaiming, Said, " My chosen people, come ! " Then the drum, Lo ! was dumb, For the great heart of the nation, throbbing, answered, " Lord, we come !