The Speaker's Garland: Comprising 100 Choice Selections ...Phineas Garrett Penn Publishing Company, 1878 |
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25 psl.
... tears of mourning , the individual world eagerly pursues the phantom of hope , till death stops the chase and rolls them into the tomb . Dreaming of this , the peasant forgets his grief , and only seeks to become dear in his own circle ...
... tears of mourning , the individual world eagerly pursues the phantom of hope , till death stops the chase and rolls them into the tomb . Dreaming of this , the peasant forgets his grief , and only seeks to become dear in his own circle ...
32 psl.
... tears ; In the strong , rich soil of freedom , with a bounteous benison From their prophet , priest , and pioneer - our father , Wash- ington ! Above them floated echoes of the ruin and the wreck , Like " drums that beat at Louisburg ...
... tears ; In the strong , rich soil of freedom , with a bounteous benison From their prophet , priest , and pioneer - our father , Wash- ington ! Above them floated echoes of the ruin and the wreck , Like " drums that beat at Louisburg ...
43 psl.
... tears from weeping eyes ; Where winter melts in endless spring , And June stands near with deathless flowers ; Where we may hear the dear ones sing Who loved us in this world of ours ? I ask , and lo ! my cheeks are wet With tears for ...
... tears from weeping eyes ; Where winter melts in endless spring , And June stands near with deathless flowers ; Where we may hear the dear ones sing Who loved us in this world of ours ? I ask , and lo ! my cheeks are wet With tears for ...
44 psl.
... tears for her I cannot see- Oh ! mother , art thou living yet , And dost thou still remember me ? JOSIAH AND FAMILY AT THE CENTENNIAL . EMMA M. JOHNSTON . While going the rounds of the great Exhibition , lately , we found the passage ...
... tears for her I cannot see- Oh ! mother , art thou living yet , And dost thou still remember me ? JOSIAH AND FAMILY AT THE CENTENNIAL . EMMA M. JOHNSTON . While going the rounds of the great Exhibition , lately , we found the passage ...
48 psl.
... tears ! Poor old Margery Miller ! Sitting alone , Unsought , unknown , How could she stifle her sad heart's moan ? Soft on her ear fell the Christmas chimes , Bringing the thought of the dear old times , Like birds that sing of far ...
... tears ! Poor old Margery Miller ! Sitting alone , Unsought , unknown , How could she stifle her sad heart's moan ? Soft on her ear fell the Christmas chimes , Bringing the thought of the dear old times , Like birds that sing of far ...
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Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ain't angels arms art thou asked Babie Bell baby beautiful Belshazzar Betsey better blace bless blood breast breath Bregenz brow Burdock catarrh cheek child cold cried dark deacon dead dear death Detroit Free Press door earth eyes face father fear feet flowers girl glory gone grave guilders hair hand hath head hear heard heart heaven heerd king kiss KITTY knew lady laugh light lips live look Lord Madame Roland Maria Jackson Miltiades morning mother neath never night o'er once Persimmons Peter poor replied Robin Gray round shout silent sing sleep Smike smile song sorrow soul stood sweet tears tell thee There's things thou thought told turned Twas voice vrom watch wave wife wind woman words young
Populiarios ištraukos
149 psl. - Never gave the enraptured air) There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering, And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, Out came the children running. All the little boys and girls, With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after The wonderful music with...
149 psl. - Hark! they whisper; Angels say, Sister Spirit, come away. What is this absorbs me quite? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath? Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death? The world recedes: it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy Victory? O Death! where is thy Sting.
99 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 an hundred.
148 psl. - Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Cocking tails and pricking whiskers; Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, — Followed the piper for their lives.
104 psl. - Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
180 psl. - Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife ! To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.
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 showed how fields were won.
81 psl. - I go, and it is done ; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven or to hell.
162 psl. - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry.
89 psl. - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo ; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards with solemn round The bivouac of the dead.