Moffatt's geographical readers, Volumen1

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Términos y frases comunes

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Página 82 - THE NORTH WIND DOTH BLOW he north wind doth blow, And we shall have snow, And what will poor Robin do then, Poor thing? He'll sit in a barn, And keep himself warm, And hide his head under his wing, Poor thing.
Página 93 - 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...
Página 40 - When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. Then the traveller in the dark, Thanks you for your tiny spark ! He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so.
Página 38 - Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.
Página 28 - MY God, who makes the sun to know His proper hour to rise, And, to give light to all below, Doth send him round the skies.
Página 18 - 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 45 - Hark ! the new-born lambs are bleating, And the cawing rooks are meeting In the elms, — a noisy crowd; All the birds are singing loud ; And the first white butterfly In the sunshine dances by. Look around thee, look around ! Flowers in all the fields abound ; Every running stream is bright; All the orchard trees are white; And each small and waving shoot Promises sweet flowers and fruit.
Página 91 - JANUARY brings the snow, Makes our feet and fingers glow. February brings the rain, Thaws the frozen lake again. March brings breezes loud and shrill, Stirs the dancing daffodil.
Página 83 - Oh ! do you not know that he's gone long ago To a country much warmer than ours, poor thing. The north wind doth blow, and we shall have snow, And what will the honey-bee do, poor thing?
Página 4 - OH tell me, pretty river ! Whence do thy waters flow ? And whither art thou roaming, So pensive and so slow ? " My birthplace was the mountain, My nurse, the April showers ; My cradle was a fountain O'er-curtained by wild flowers. " One morn I ran away, A madcap hoyden rill — And many a prank that day I played adown the hill ! " And then, mid meadowy banks, I flirted with the flowers...

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