The Third Reader, Tema 3

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D. Appleton, 1888 - 214 páginas
 

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Página 27 - Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather's house we go; The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh Through the white and drifted snow.
Página 159 - Those who toil bravely are strongest ; The humble and poor become great , And so from these brown-handed children Shall grow mighty rulers of state. The pen of the author and statesman — The noble and wise of the land — The sword, and the chisel, and palette, Shall be held in the little brown hand.
Página 28 - Thanksgiving Day. Over the river and through the wood. And straight through the barnyard gate; We seem to go Extremely slow; It is so hard to wait! Over the river and through the wood. Now grandmother's cap I spy! Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done? Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!
Página 159 - LITTLE BROWN HANDS They drive home the cows from the pasture, Up through the long shady lane, Where the quail whistles loud in the wheatfields That are yellow with ripening grain. They find in the thick waving grasses, Where the scarlet-lipped strawberry grows ; They gather the earliest snowdrops, And the first crimson buds of the rose.
Página 200 - The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree; It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.
Página 131 - Though she saw him there like a ball of light, For she knew he had God's time to keep All over the world, and never could sleep.
Página 119 - He answered and said, A man that is called Jesus made clay, and anointed mine eyes, and said unto me, Go to the pool of Siloam...
Página 131 - And while on her pillow she softly lay, She knew nothing more till again it was day; And all things said to the beautiful sun, "Good morning! good morning! our work is begun!
Página 170 - Freddy, and all the snow; And the sheep will scamper into the fold When the North begins to blow. Which is the Wind that brings the heat ? The South- Wind, Katy ; and corn will grow, And peaches redden for you to eat, When the South begins to blow.
Página 15 - So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree, To you and to me, to you and to me, And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy, " Oh, the world's running over with joy ! But long it won't be, Don't you know ? don't you see ? Unless we are as good as can be.

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