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Página 544 - I HEARD the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good- will to men ! And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men...
Página 370 - FOREIGN LANDS UP into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hands And looked abroad on foreign lands. I saw the next door garden lie, Adorned with flowers, before my eye, And many pleasant places more That I had never seen before.
Página 81 - HOW doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower...
Página 81 - In works of labour or of skill I would be busy too: For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do.
Página 76 - The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush. Here we go round the mulberry bush, So early in the morning.
Página 308 - THE friendly cow all red and white, I love with all my heart : She gives me cream with all her might, To eat with apple -tart.
Página 414 - said the hen ; " Don't ask me again, Why, I haven'ta chick Would do such a trick. We all gave her a feather, And she wove them together. I 'd scorn to intrude On her and her brood. Cluck! Cluck !" said the hen,
Página 423 - Let me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market-place or tranquil room; Let me but find it in my heart to say, When vagrant wishes beckon me astray: "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; Of all who live, I am the one by whom This work can best be done in the right way.
Página 274 - SWING How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing Ever a child can do! Up in the air and over the wall, Till I can see so wide, Rivers and trees and cattle and all Over the countryside — Till I look down on the garden green, Down on the roof so brown — Up in the air I go flying again, Up in the air and down!
Página 301 - August brings the sheaves of corn, Then the harvest home is borne. Warm September brings the fruit; Sportsmen then begin to shoot. Fresh October brings the pheasant; Then to gather nuts is pleasant. Dull November brings the blast; Then the leaves are whirling fast. Chill December brings the sleet, Blazing fire, and Christmas treat. Sara Coleridge [1802—1852] RIDDLES THERE was a girl in our town, Silk an...