The Ladies' Reader: Designed for the Use of Ladies' Schools and Family Reading Circles; Comprising Choice Selections from Standard Authors, in Prose and Poetry; with the Essentials Rules of Elocution, Simplified and Arranged for Strictly Practical Use
E. H. Butler, 1872 - Всего страниц: 425
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The Ladies' Reader Designed for the Use of Ladies' Schools and Family ...
John W. S. Hows
Недоступно для просмотра - 2017
arms bear beauty bells beneath birds bless blue breath bright called child close clouds comes dark dear death deep door earth eyes face fair fall father fear feel feet flowers forest give grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human Italy keep lady land Laughing leaves light live look mind morning mother nature never night o'er once passed poor Queen rest rise river rock rose round seemed seen side silent smile song soul sound speak spirit stand stars stood sweet tears Tell thee thing thou thought trees true turn voice wave whole wife wild wind young youth
Стр. 151 - All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.
Стр. 152 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields, or waves, or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be : Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou lovest ; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Стр. 111 - 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.
Стр. 28 - Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress'd yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would," Like the poor cat i
Стр. 269 - But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore.
Стр. 285 - Where the lamps quiver So far in the river, With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement, Houseless by night.
Стр. 416 - The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives ; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best...
Стр. 113 - Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse ; Such as the meeting soul may pierce. In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 140 With wanton heed and giddy cunning; The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Стр. 268 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never — nevermore.
Стр. 127 - The blackbird in the summer trees, The lark upon the hill, Let loose their carols when they please, Are quiet when they will. " With Nature never do they wage A foolish strife ; they see A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free : " But we are pressed by heavy laws And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because We have been glad of yore.