The revised series. First (-Sixth) reader, ed. by T. Morrison

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Thomas Morrison (LL.D.)
1884
 

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Página 25 - Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: "Pipe a song about a Lamb!' So I piped with merry cheer. 'Piper, pipe that song again;
Página 26 - Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer!" So I sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. "Piper, sit thee down and write In a book, that all may read.
Página 24 - Little drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean, And the pleasant land.
Página 42 - Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere ; All around the open door, Where sit the aged poor; Here where the children play, In the bright and merry May, I come creeping, creeping everywhere.
Página 80 - Little white Lily Sat by a stone, Drooping and waiting Till the sun shone. Little white Lily Sunshine has fed ; Little white Lily Is lifting her head. Little white Lily Said, " It is good ; Little white Lily's Clothing and food.
Página 103 - twere always day. With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe ; But sure with patience I can bear A loss I ne'er can know. Then let not what I cannot have My cheer of mind destroy : Whilst thus I sing, I am a king, Although a poor blind boy.
Página 30 - WORK while you work, Play while you play, That is the way To be cheerful and gay. All that you do, Do with your might, Things done by halves Are never done right.
Página 45 - We gazed, but not a man could speak! With horror all aghast, In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, We watched the quivering mast. The atmosphere grew thick and hot, And of a lurid hue, As, riveted unto the spot, Stood officers and crew. The father came on deck. He gasped "O God, thy will be done!" Then suddenly a rifle grasped And aimed it at his son ; "Jump — far out, boy, into the wave, Jump, or I fire," he said; "That only chance your life can save!
Página 99 - I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down." "OI fear ye are poisond, Lord Randal, my son! OI fear ye are poisond, my handsome young man!
Página 103 - I feel him warm, but how can he Or make it day or night ? My day or night myself I make Whene'er I sleep or play ; And could I ever keep awake With me 'twere always day. With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe ; But sure with patience I can bear A loss I ne'er can know. Then let not what...

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