Routledge's readings, selected and arranged by E. RoutledgeEdmund Routledge 1871 |
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Página 10
... voice to me that cannot rise , And sweet is all the land about , and all the flowers that blow , And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go . It seem'd so hard at first , mother , to leave the blessed sun , And now it ...
... voice to me that cannot rise , And sweet is all the land about , and all the flowers that blow , And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go . It seem'd so hard at first , mother , to leave the blessed sun , And now it ...
Página 11
Edmund Routledge. O blessings on his kindly voice and on his silver hair ! And blessings on his whole life long , until he meet me there ! O blessings on his kindly heart and on his silver head ! A thousand times I blest him , as he ...
Edmund Routledge. O blessings on his kindly voice and on his silver hair ! And blessings on his whole life long , until he meet me there ! O blessings on his kindly heart and on his silver head ! A thousand times I blest him , as he ...
Página 13
... voice that now is speaking , may be beyond the sun- For ever and for ever with those just souls and true— And what is life , that we should moan ? why make we such ado ? For ever and for ever , all in a blessed home- And there to wait a ...
... voice that now is speaking , may be beyond the sun- For ever and for ever with those just souls and true— And what is life , that we should moan ? why make we such ado ? For ever and for ever , all in a blessed home- And there to wait a ...
Página 25
... voice - rang its remorse- less toll , for her , so young , so beautiful , so good . Decrepit age , and vigorous life , and blooming youth , and helpless infancy , poured forth - on crutches , in the pride of strength and health , in the ...
... voice - rang its remorse- less toll , for her , so young , so beautiful , so good . Decrepit age , and vigorous life , and blooming youth , and helpless infancy , poured forth - on crutches , in the pride of strength and health , in the ...
Página 29
... voice - how many glimpses of the form , the fluttering dress , the hair that waved so gaily in the wind - how many visions of what had been , and what he hoped yet to be , rose up before him , in the old , dull , silent church ! He ...
... voice - how many glimpses of the form , the fluttering dress , the hair that waved so gaily in the wind - how many visions of what had been , and what he hoped yet to be , rose up before him , in the old , dull , silent church ! He ...
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Routledge's Readings, Selected and Arranged by E. Routledge Edmund Routledge Sin vista previa disponible - 2019 |
Términos y frases comunes
ALFRED TENNYSON Alice the nurse Allen-a-Dale Angel arms BATTLE OF WATERLOO bless bosom breast breath bright brow call me early CHARLES DICKENS child CHLORODYNE cried dark dead death Dendermond door Dora EDWIN WAUGH eyes face father fear feet fell flowers Floy galloped gazed glad New-year grave hall hand head hear heard heart Heaven honour King Robert kiss Lady Clara Vere Lady Clare laughed Learn to labour light lips Lochiel Lochinvar look look'd Lord FRANCIS CONYNGHAM Lord Ronald morning mother dear N. P. WILLIS never night o'er pray prayer Queen river Lee rode rose round rushed Saint Peter's Square Shandon silence smiled snow soul sound steed stood sweet tears tell thee thou thought thunder to-morrow told trembling Trim twas uncle Toby Vere de Vere voice wall watched wave wild wind word young
Pasajes populares
Página 55 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted ! Let us be patient!
Página 67 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd head sinks gradually low — And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.
Página 57 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Página 18 - Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'tis only noble to be good; Kind hearts are more than coronets, and simple faith than Norman blood.
Página 51 - 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. I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet.
Página 159 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more...
Página 82 - Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve — The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve ; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng ; And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long ! She wept with pity and delight. She blushed with love and virgin shame ; And like the murmur of a dream I heard her breathe my name.
Página 156 - The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth, Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. The heart of the steed and the heart of the master Were beating like prisoners...
Página 15 - Stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well; Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred.
Página 161 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide, And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine ; There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.