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Literature for Little Folks: Selections from Standard Authors, and Easy ...
Vista de fragmentos - 1886
Literature for Little Folks: Selections From Standard Authors, and Easy ...
Sin vista previa disponible - 2017
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Página 95 - 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 78 - Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!" And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.
Página 48 - So, up to the housetop the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys — and St. Nicholas, too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound : He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot...
Página 108 - White are his shoulders, and white his crest ; Hear him call in his merry note : " Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Look, what a nice new coat is mine, Sure there was never a bird so fine. Chee, chee, chee.
Página 34 - I wish that his hands had been placed on my head, That his arm had been thrown around me, And that I might have seen his kind look, when he said, " Let the little ones come unto me.
Página 92 - HOME. :Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home ; A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home ! home ! sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home...
Página 119 - HOUR. BETWEEN the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations, That is known as the Children's Hour.
Página 77 - 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.
Página 125 - Woodman, spare that tree ! Touch not a single bough ! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea — And wouldst thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties...