Nature in Verse: A Poetry Reader for Children

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Silver, Burdett, 1895 - 305 pāgines
 

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Pāgina 239 - Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice.
Pāgina 233 - Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
Pāgina 238 - And a feeling of sadness conies o'er me, That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Pāgina 3 - Jacob selah lift up your heads O ye gates and be ye lifted up ye everlasting doors and the King of glory shall come in...
Pāgina 3 - Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.
Pāgina 262 - 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.
Pāgina 233 - THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.
Pāgina 114 - Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i...
Pāgina 259 - Now I shall be out of sight; So through the valley and over the height, In silence I'll take my way; I will not go on like that blustering train, The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, Who make so much bustle and noise in vain, But I'll be as busy as they.
Pāgina 86 - MERRILY swinging on brier and weed, Near to the nest of his little dame, Over the mountain-side or mead, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name ; " Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Snug and safe is that nest of ours, Hidden among the summer flowers. Chee, chee, chee.

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