Elementary Industrial Arts

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Macmillan, 1922 - Всего страниц: 335

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Стр. 250 - King, and royal craftsmen we ! Strike in, strike in — the sparks begin to dull their rustling red, Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped : Our Anchor soon must change his bed of fiery rich array.
Стр. 66 - Where still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot. The thought was happy, pertinent, and true; Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. I (can you pardon my presumption?) I — No wit, no genius, yet for once will try. Various the papers various wants produce, The wants of fashion, elegance, and use.
Стр. 325 - My work is mine, And, heresy or not, if my hand slacked I should rob God - since He is fullest good Leaving a blank instead of violins. I say, not God Himself can make man's best Without best men to help Him.
Стр. 250 - For the yeo-heave-o , and the heave-away, and the sighing seaman's cheer, When, weighing slow, at eve they go, far, far from love and home; And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the ocean foam. In livid and obdurate gloom he darkens down at last; A shapely one he is, and strong, as e'er from cat was cast...
Стр. 138 - Turn, turn, my wheel ! All life is brief; What now is bud will soon be leaf, What now is leaf will soon decay ; The wind blows east, the wind blows west ; The blue eggs in the robin's nest Will soon have wings and beak and breast, And flutter and fly away.
Стр. 250 - leap out, leap out": bang, bang, the sledges go; Hurrah! the jetted lightnings are hissing high and low; A hailing fount of fire Is struck at every squashing blow; The leathern mail rebounds the hail ; the rattling cinders strew The ground around; at every bound the sweltering fountains flow; And thick and loud the swinking crowd, at every stroke, pant
Стр. 325 - Straggle and be content; but God be praised, Antonio Stradivari has an eye That winces at false work and loves the true, With hand and arm that play upon the tool As willingly as any singing bird Sets him to sing his morning roundelay, Because he likes to sing and likes the song.
Стр. 325 - Twixt chin and hand a violin of mine, He will be glad that Stradivari lived, Made violins, and made them of the best. The masters only know whose work is good : pay They will choose mine, and while God gives them skill I give them instruments to play upon, God choosing me to help Him.
Стр. 138 - That shapeless, lifeless mass of clay Rise up to meet the master's hand, And now contract and now expand, And even his slightest touch obey ; While ever in a thoughtful mood He sang his ditty, and at times Whistled a tune between the rhymes, As a melodious interlude. Turn, turn, my •wheel! All things must change To something new, to something strange ; Nothing that is can pause or stay...
Стр. 228 - Back of the beating hammer By which the steel is wrought, Back of the workshop's clamor The seeker may find the Thought, The thought that is ever master Of iron and steam and steel, That rises above disaster And tramples it under heel!

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