The Speaker's Garland: Comprising 100 Choice Selections ...Phineas Garrett Penn Publishing Company, 1878 |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 1–4 iš 4
54 psl.
... Vrom der hair ubon mine hed ? Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp Vene'er der glim I douse ? How gan I all dese dings eggsblain To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss . I somedimes dink I schall go vild Mit sooch a grazy poy , Und vish vonce ...
... Vrom der hair ubon mine hed ? Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp Vene'er der glim I douse ? How gan I all dese dings eggsblain To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss . I somedimes dink I schall go vild Mit sooch a grazy poy , Und vish vonce ...
17 psl.
... vrom his bocket oudt , und sy " Vell , I poots you town vor dree tousand tollars . " I. A him vat he means py " poots me town , " und den he say , in vas von off der daxmen , or assessors off broperty , und ne tank me so kindly as nefer ...
... vrom his bocket oudt , und sy " Vell , I poots you town vor dree tousand tollars . " I. A him vat he means py " poots me town , " und den he say , in vas von off der daxmen , or assessors off broperty , und ne tank me so kindly as nefer ...
43 psl.
... vrom his chair , Und gifes mine Katrina von derrible sckare ; Mine hair shtands like shquills on a mat borcubine Ven I dinks off dose pranks off dot baby off mine . Dere vas someding , you pet , I don'd likes pooty vell ; To hear in der ...
... vrom his chair , Und gifes mine Katrina von derrible sckare ; Mine hair shtands like shquills on a mat borcubine Ven I dinks off dose pranks off dot baby off mine . Dere vas someding , you pet , I don'd likes pooty vell ; To hear in der ...
131 psl.
... vrom vat ees gute ant manly , mein shilt ; but trinks at home , dakes your trink pure , Pilly , and lets me pays vor it . Kom , mein poy ! You likes peer . Vell , kom , open dein mout , heir I haf all te peer stuff simons pure vrom te ...
... vrom vat ees gute ant manly , mein shilt ; but trinks at home , dakes your trink pure , Pilly , and lets me pays vor it . Kom , mein poy ! You likes peer . Vell , kom , open dein mout , heir I haf all te peer stuff simons pure vrom te ...
Turinys
38 | |
43 | |
50 | |
52 | |
54 | |
56 | |
67 | |
71 | |
74 | |
76 | |
81 | |
85 | |
98 | |
120 | |
131 | |
139 | |
140 | |
142 | |
147 | |
148 | |
157 | |
165 | |
167 | |
174 | |
18 | |
24 | |
28 | |
30 | |
35 | |
36 | |
39 | |
41 | |
42 | |
51 | |
53 | |
56 | |
58 | |
59 | |
80 | |
82 | |
85 | |
90 | |
101 | |
115 | |
124 | |
125 | |
132 | |
135 | |
145 | |
146 | |
152 | |
154 | |
157 | |
165 | |
169 | |
173 | |
174 | |
6 | |
7 | |
8 | |
18 | |
21 | |
88 | |
98 | |
116 | |
126 | |
127 | |
137 | |
147 | |
148 | |
155 | |
158 | |
160 | |
161 | |
162 | |
165 | |
168 | |
7 | |
14 | |
22 | |
35 | |
47 | |
48 | |
62 | |
65 | |
67 | |
68 | |
81 | |
87 | |
88 | |
91 | |
92 | |
93 | |
96 | |
103 | |
106 | |
108 | |
113 | |
116 | |
117 | |
125 | |
129 | |
135 | |
136 | |
142 | |
151 | |
153 | |
154 | |
160 | |
161 | |
162 | |
173 | |
188 | |
192 | |
192 | |
192 | |
193 | |
201 | |
217 | |
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.