(The British readers). The first (-sixth) reader, ed. by T. Morrison. The literary reader, a companion vol. to the fifth and sixth readers |
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Page 8
... sweet , Reft from the household throng ; There's bitter weeping in the nest Where breathed their soul of song . 7. Toll for the hearts that bleed ' Neath misery's furrowing trace ! Toll for the hapless orphan left , The last of all his ...
... sweet , Reft from the household throng ; There's bitter weeping in the nest Where breathed their soul of song . 7. Toll for the hearts that bleed ' Neath misery's furrowing trace ! Toll for the hapless orphan left , The last of all his ...
Page 9
... sweet vision I saw , And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again . 3. Methought from the battle - field's dreadful array , Far , far I had roam'd on a desolate track : " Twas autumn - and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my ...
... sweet vision I saw , And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again . 3. Methought from the battle - field's dreadful array , Far , far I had roam'd on a desolate track : " Twas autumn - and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my ...
Page 16
... sweet and blossom in the dust . SHIRLEY . BUSY , CURIOUS , THIRSTY FLY . 1. Busy , curious , thirsty fly , Drink with me , and drink as I ; Freely welcome to my cup , Couldst thou sip , and sip it up . Make the most of life you may ...
... sweet and blossom in the dust . SHIRLEY . BUSY , CURIOUS , THIRSTY FLY . 1. Busy , curious , thirsty fly , Drink with me , and drink as I ; Freely welcome to my cup , Couldst thou sip , and sip it up . Make the most of life you may ...
Page 18
... Sweet were his words when last we met , My passion as I freely told him ; Clasp'd in his arms , I little thought That I should never more behold him . 6. Scarce was he gone , I saw his ghost- It vanished with a shriek of sorrow ; Thrice ...
... Sweet were his words when last we met , My passion as I freely told him ; Clasp'd in his arms , I little thought That I should never more behold him . 6. Scarce was he gone , I saw his ghost- It vanished with a shriek of sorrow ; Thrice ...
Page 26
... grew Beside a human door ! 3. You yet may spy the fawn at play , The hare upon the green ; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen . 4. " To - night will be a stormy night- 26 LITERARY READER . LUCY GRAY,
... grew Beside a human door ! 3. You yet may spy the fawn at play , The hare upon the green ; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen . 4. " To - night will be a stormy night- 26 LITERARY READER . LUCY GRAY,
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(The British Readers). the First (-Sixth) Reader, Ed. by T. Morrison. the ... Thomas Morrison (Ll D ) No preview available - 2015 |
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Alençon arms arrow art thou Arth Barbara Frietchie battle BATTLE OF MORGARTEN blood born bosom breath brother Brutus Cæsar Clar Clarence clouds crown Dacotahs dark dead death deed deep died doth dreadful Duke earth Enter ERPINGHAM eyes fair fall father fear fire forest Gaunt give glove grace grave hand happy Harfleur hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha honour hope Hubert John John of Gaunt Julius Cæsar king land Laughing Water light live Lochiel look lord majesty mercy morning mountain murdered nature never Nevermore night noble Nokomis o'er peace poet postilion prince red deer rising rock round scene Shylock sleep smiled soldiers sorrow soul speak stood sweet tears Tell thee thou thought voice waves weep wild word Yarrow young
Popular passages
Page 310 - Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful jollity, Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, Nods and becks and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Page 81 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed. The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb. Or whispering with white lips — "The foe! They come! they come ! " And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering
Page 60 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Page 48 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted— nevermore!
Page 246 - Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Page 80 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
Page 45 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,— " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !" Quoth the Raven,
Page 16 - When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
Page 47 - thing of evil— prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!
Page 80 - As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm! Arm! it is! — it is! — the cannon's opening roar! Within a window'd niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with death's prophetic ear...