Primary Education, Volumen8

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Educational Publishing Company, 1900

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Página 247 - deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.
Página 251 - which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. " Twilight and evening bell. And after that the dark ! And may there be no sadness of farewell When I embark : • " For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, 1 hope to see my Pilot face to face, When I have crost the bar.
Página 247 - rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear laye. Whether we look or whether we listen, We hear
Página 247 - for me ! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep. Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the
Página 69 - I have you fast in my fortress, And will not let you depart, But put you into the dungeon In the round-tower of my heart. And there I will keep you forever, Yes, forever and a day,— Till the walls shall crumble to ruin And moulder in dust away.
Página 58 - Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right — The leaves upon her falling light — Thro' the noises of the night She floated down to Camelot : And as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song. The Lady of Shalott.
Página 247 - are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven ; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but
Página 408 - A Vagabond Song There is something In the autumn that is native to my blood— Touch of manner, hint of mood : And my heart is like a rhyme, With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time. The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry Of bugles going by,
Página 247 - Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower — but if I could understand What you are,
Página 352 - Not what we give, but what we share, For the gift without the giver is bare; Who gives himself, with his alms, feeds three, Himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me.

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