Common-school Grammar of the English Language

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Pàgina 325 - KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime...
Pàgina 145 - Massachusetts; she needs none. There she is. Behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the world knows it by heart The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill; and there they will remain forever.
Pàgina 112 - E'en the slight harebell raised its head, Elastic from her airy tread : What though upon her speech there hung The accents of the mountain tongue — Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, The listener held his breath to hear.
Pàgina 244 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Pàgina 218 - Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go On the light fantastic toe...
Pàgina 248 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
Pàgina 273 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song...
Pàgina 59 - Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears Him in the wind; His soul proud Science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or Milky Way...
Pàgina 327 - I COME, I come ! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song, Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
Pàgina 343 - The only point where human bliss stands still, And tastes the good without the fall to ill ; Where only merit...

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