What Shall We Do To-night?: Or, Social Amusements for Evening Parties. Furnishing Complete and Varied Programmes for Twenty-six Entertainments

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Dick & Fitzgerald, 1873 - Всего страниц: 366

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Стр. 123 - Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light. What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight. O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming? And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Стр. 197 - I put my right foot in, I put my right foot out, I give my right foot a shake, shake, shake, And turn myself about.
Стр. 197 - All on a Saturday night! I put my right hand in, I put my right hand out; I give my right hand a shake, shake, shake, And turn myself about, oh.
Стр. 73 - CHORUS The Union forever, hurrah, boys, hurrah! Down with the traitor, up with the star; While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, shouting the battle-cry of Freedom.
Стр. 103 - You have judged, as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours.
Стр. 73 - Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again, Snouting the battle-cry of Freedom ; We will rally from the hillside, we'll gather from the plain, Shouting the battle-cry of Freedom.
Стр. 321 - You have made bitter earnest of it. [Cries,.] Not a quarter of an hour ago you said you would never change, and now there you stand as cold and indifferent as if we had been married for twenty years. HEN. Now, now, don't cry — you know how that irritates me. JES.
Стр. 232 - FAINT, delicious, spring-time violet! Thine odor, like a key, Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let A thought of sorrow free. The breath of distant fields upon my brow Blows through that open door The sound of wind-borne bells, more sweet and low, And sadder than of yore. It comes afar, from that beloved place, And that beloved hour, When life hung ripening in love's golden grace, Like grapes above a bower. A spring goes...
Стр. 108 - I LOVE it, I love it ; and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm-chair...

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