American Classics for Seventh and Eighth Grade Reading: With Biographical Sketches, Portraits and Suggestions for StudyHoughton Mifflin, 1905 - 437 páginas |
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Página 12
... door work to do ; so that though his patri- monial estate had dwindled away under his manage- ment , acre by acre , until there was little more left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes , yet it was the worst - conditioned farm ...
... door work to do ; so that though his patri- monial estate had dwindled away under his manage- ment , acre by acre , until there was little more left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes , yet it was the worst - conditioned farm ...
Página 13
... door with yelping precipitation . Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never mellows with age , and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use ...
... door with yelping precipitation . Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never mellows with age , and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use ...
Página 14
... door of which he took his seat from morning till night , just moving suf- ficiently to avoid the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements as accurately as by a sun - dial ...
... door of which he took his seat from morning till night , just moving suf- ficiently to avoid the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements as accurately as by a sun - dial ...
Página 21
... doors strange faces at the windows , everything was strange . His mind now misgave him ; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched . Surely this was his native vil- lage , which he had left but the ...
... doors strange faces at the windows , everything was strange . His mind now misgave him ; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched . Surely this was his native vil- lage , which he had left but the ...
Página 22
... door was painted , " The Union Hotel , by Jonathan Doolittle . " Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore , there now was reared a tall naked pole , with something on the top that looked like a ...
... door was painted , " The Union Hotel , by Jonathan Doolittle . " Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore , there now was reared a tall naked pole , with something on the top that looked like a ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Acadian American ANNABEL LEE Annapolis River Basil bear beauty behold bells BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH bird character church dark death deciduous door Emerson England English Ernest Evangeline eyes farmer father forest French friends Gabriel gleamed Grand-Pré hand head heard heart heaven Henry hill House of Burgesses Ichabod Ichabod Crane Indian Israfel labor land light literary literature lived looked maiden meadows morning mountain nature neighboring never Nevermore night Nova Scotia o'er passed pine Poe's poem poet poetry prairies priest published Quoth the Raven RALPH WALDO EMERSON Raven Rip Van Winkle river rose round seemed shadow shore side silence Sir Launfal Sleepy Hollow smile song sorrow soul sound speech spirit Stone Face stood story stream sweet thee thou thought tion tonian tree trout valley village Virginia voice volume Washington wind winter wonder woods words
Pasajes populares
Página 194 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Página 362 - All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone — They are neither man nor woman — They are neither brute nor human — They are Ghouls: And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells!
Página 175 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Página 352 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here for evermore.
Página 159 - Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers.
Página 357 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore ! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Página 176 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there : And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep— the dead reign there alone.
Página 129 - Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play! Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, The truth to flesh and sense unknown, That Life is ever lord of Death, And Love can never lose its own!
Página 194 - NAUTILUS This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
Página 26 - Rip looked and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as he went up the mountain, apparently as lazy and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name. "God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm not myself.