The shower of pearls, a collection of poetry, original and selected, for schools, by C. PhillipsSimpkin, Marshall and Company, 1855 - 155 páginas |
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Página 15
... you hear the sweet church bell ; Can you tell me who was born Early on the Christmas morn ? I hope you will at once reply Yes , we are glad , and we know why ; This day is joyful upon earth In honour of the C 2 15 Christmas Hymn ·
... you hear the sweet church bell ; Can you tell me who was born Early on the Christmas morn ? I hope you will at once reply Yes , we are glad , and we know why ; This day is joyful upon earth In honour of the C 2 15 Christmas Hymn ·
Página 19
... once did say-- " Let the little ones come unto me ! " Yet still to the footstool of mercy I'll go , And ask for a share of his love ; And if I thus earnestly seek him below , I shall see him and hear him above . In that beautiful place ...
... once did say-- " Let the little ones come unto me ! " Yet still to the footstool of mercy I'll go , And ask for a share of his love ; And if I thus earnestly seek him below , I shall see him and hear him above . In that beautiful place ...
Página 23
... once in slumber soft The darling sufferer lay , And like a lamb of Jesus slept His little life away . He slept , but with what glorious joy ! What strains of seraph love ! The waking word he spake not here Shall be pronounced above ...
... once in slumber soft The darling sufferer lay , And like a lamb of Jesus slept His little life away . He slept , but with what glorious joy ! What strains of seraph love ! The waking word he spake not here Shall be pronounced above ...
Página 24
Charlotte Phillips. THE TRUTHFUL BOY . ONCE there was a little boy With curly hair and pleasant eye ; A boy who always told the truth , And never , never told a lie . And when he trotted off to school , The children all about would cry ...
Charlotte Phillips. THE TRUTHFUL BOY . ONCE there was a little boy With curly hair and pleasant eye ; A boy who always told the truth , And never , never told a lie . And when he trotted off to school , The children all about would cry ...
Página 52
... once again he cried , " If I may yet be gone ; 99 And but the booming shots replied , And fast the flames rolled on . Upon his brow he felt their breath , And in his waving hair ; And looked from that lone post of death , In still yet ...
... once again he cried , " If I may yet be gone ; 99 And but the booming shots replied , And fast the flames rolled on . Upon his brow he felt their breath , And in his waving hair ; And looked from that lone post of death , In still yet ...
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Términos y frases comunes
angel ANON Asshur beautiful beneath bird bitter woe Hear bless bless'd breast breath bright brow cheek child at sea cry Lama Sabacthani dark dear death DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB doth E'en earth EDMESTON Excelsior fair fear flowers fragrant gentle glad song Go when thy green grief hand happy hast thou Hear spirit voices heart heaven Heaven's gate heavenly holy inly cry Lama inly know Seasons JANE TAYLOR land little children LONGFELLOW Lord love and dreams loves me best morning mother murmur ne'er night Overcome sense pain pass'd Pompey's Pillar pray prayer red planet Mars replied Romulus and Remus Samian wine Saviour Seasons of bitter shine Shylock silent sing skies smile snow song sorrow soul Speak gently spirit voices low spring Star of Bethlehem summer sweet tear tell tempest thee thine thou hast thought tree weep wind wings woe Hear spirit
Pasajes populares
Página 83 - His hair is crisp and black and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow : You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school, Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge,...
Página 112 - With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Página 92 - THE isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, — • Where grew the arts of war and peace,— Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set...
Página 126 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
Página 145 - New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray ; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice.
Página 93 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Página 65 - THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Página 45 - Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell." She answered, "Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea; "Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.
Página 64 - Not there, not there, my child !" " Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? Or midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange, bright birds on their starry wings Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ?" '. Not there, not there, my child...
Página 51 - The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck, Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm ; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form.