The shower of pearls, a collection of poetry, original and selected, for schools, by C. PhillipsSimpkin, Marshall and Company, 1855 - 155 páginas |
Dentro del libro
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Página 6
... soon be here . Who made the winter and the spring ? Who painted all the flowers ? Who taught the little birds to sing , And made these hearts of ours ? O ! ' tis God ! how good he is ! He does every blessing give ; All this happy world ...
... soon be here . Who made the winter and the spring ? Who painted all the flowers ? Who taught the little birds to sing , And made these hearts of ours ? O ! ' tis God ! how good he is ! He does every blessing give ; All this happy world ...
Página 12
... soon a tempest blew : The snowdrop faded- -never more To glitter with the dew . I saw a smiling infant laid In its fond mother's arms : Around its rosy cheeks there played A thousand dimpling charms . A sudden pain was sent to take The ...
... soon a tempest blew : The snowdrop faded- -never more To glitter with the dew . I saw a smiling infant laid In its fond mother's arms : Around its rosy cheeks there played A thousand dimpling charms . A sudden pain was sent to take The ...
Página 43
... than give ? Better die than useless live . Summer came , and blazing June Dried the selfish Pond full soon , Not a single trace was seen Where it had so lately been . But the Brook with vigour flowed Swift along its pebbly 43.
... than give ? Better die than useless live . Summer came , and blazing June Dried the selfish Pond full soon , Not a single trace was seen Where it had so lately been . But the Brook with vigour flowed Swift along its pebbly 43.
Página 48
... soon past . The Summer is bright , but the Winter de- stroyeth the beauty thereof . The Rainbow is very glorious , but it soon . vanisheth away . Life is good , but it is quickly swallowed up 48 The Rose.
... soon past . The Summer is bright , but the Winter de- stroyeth the beauty thereof . The Rainbow is very glorious , but it soon . vanisheth away . Life is good , but it is quickly swallowed up 48 The Rose.
Página 60
... am dying- Nay , sister , do not weep . It is a joyful thing to die , For though this world is fair , I see a lovelier in my dreams , And I fancy I am there . I fancy I am taken there , As soon as 60 A Story of Heaven.
... am dying- Nay , sister , do not weep . It is a joyful thing to die , For though this world is fair , I see a lovelier in my dreams , And I fancy I am there . I fancy I am taken there , As soon as 60 A Story of Heaven.
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
The Shower of Pearls, a Collection of Poetry, Original and Selected, for ... Charlotte Phillips Sin vista previa disponible - 2015 |
The Shower of Pearls, a Collection of Poetry, Original and Selected, for ... Charlotte Phillips Sin vista previa disponible - 2018 |
Términos y frases comunes
angel ANON Asshur beautiful beneath bird bitter woe Hear bless bless'd breast breath bright brow cheek child at sea cry Lama Sabacthani dark dear death DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB doth E'en earth EDMESTON Excelsior fair fear flowers fragrant gentle glad song Go when thy green grief hand happy hast thou Hear spirit voices heart heaven Heaven's gate heavenly holy inly cry Lama inly know Seasons JANE TAYLOR land little children LONGFELLOW Lord love and dreams loves me best morning mother murmur ne'er night Overcome sense pain pass'd Pompey's Pillar pray prayer red planet Mars replied Romulus and Remus Samian wine Saviour Seasons of bitter shine Shylock silent sing skies smile snow song sorrow soul Speak gently spirit voices low spring Star of Bethlehem summer sweet tear tell tempest thee thine thou hast thought tree weep wind wings woe Hear spirit
Pasajes populares
Página 83 - His hair is crisp and black and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow : You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school, Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge,...
Página 112 - With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Página 92 - THE isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, — • Where grew the arts of war and peace,— Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set...
Página 126 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
Página 145 - New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray ; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice.
Página 93 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Página 65 - THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Página 45 - Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell." She answered, "Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea; "Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.
Página 64 - Not there, not there, my child !" " Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? Or midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange, bright birds on their starry wings Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ?" '. Not there, not there, my child...
Página 51 - The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck, Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm ; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form.