A Treasure Chest of MemoriesGrosset and Dunlap, 1911 - 447 страница |
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Страница 4
... never failed , he never strove or sought . Who never wept is stranger to a laugh , And he who never doubted never thought . Rev. J. B. Goode . PAT'S FIRST NIGHT IN TOWN Two Irishmen fresh from Ireland had just landed in New York and ...
... never failed , he never strove or sought . Who never wept is stranger to a laugh , And he who never doubted never thought . Rev. J. B. Goode . PAT'S FIRST NIGHT IN TOWN Two Irishmen fresh from Ireland had just landed in New York and ...
Страница 5
... never to come back . All through those anxious days , when my time was divided between home and the sick chamber miles away , I would never visit the sick one , who was constantly growing weaker , but I was the bearer of letters like ...
... never to come back . All through those anxious days , when my time was divided between home and the sick chamber miles away , I would never visit the sick one , who was constantly growing weaker , but I was the bearer of letters like ...
Страница 7
... - ster , expecting to see him spring from his chair and catch his heartless adversary by the throat . Never before had anyone referred to Mr. Brewster's misfortune in such a way , or even in any terms , in his HEART THROBS 7.
... - ster , expecting to see him spring from his chair and catch his heartless adversary by the throat . Never before had anyone referred to Mr. Brewster's misfortune in such a way , or even in any terms , in his HEART THROBS 7.
Страница 15
... never shall the clicking type or shortened scrawl profane The message to the dear old home up there in Maine . Holman F. Day , in Lewiston Journal . TRIBUTE TO THE FLAG I have seen the glories of art and architecture and of river and ...
... never shall the clicking type or shortened scrawl profane The message to the dear old home up there in Maine . Holman F. Day , in Lewiston Journal . TRIBUTE TO THE FLAG I have seen the glories of art and architecture and of river and ...
Страница 20
... never forget what they did here . It is for us , the living , rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced . It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task ...
... never forget what they did here . It is for us , the living , rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced . It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task ...
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Alfred Tennyson Alice Cary angels Anon baby Baby Bell beautiful bells blessed brave breath brow cheer child cried dark dead dear death door dream earth eyes face faith father feet flag flowers forever forget Fortunate Isles give glad glory golden gone grave gray hand happy hath head hear heard Heart Throbs Heaven hope James Whitcomb Riley Joaquin Miller John Boyle O'Reilly keep kiss lady land laugh life's light lips live look Lord morning mother never Nevermore night o'er Oliver Wendell Holmes passed poem prayer rest Roquefort cheese rose Sam Walter Foss shine silent sing sleep smile song sorrow soul Star Spangled Banner stars stood sweet tears tell thee There's things thou thought Twas voice weary whispered wind woman wonder word young
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Страница 18 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns," he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!
Страница 103 - Whither, midst falling dew. While glow the heavens with the last steps of day. Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?
Страница 302 - HEAR the sledges with the bells— Silver bells ! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night ! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Страница 22 - Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is...
Страница 175 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
Страница 7 - For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard. All valiant dust that builds on dust, And guarding calls not Thee to guard; For frantic boast and foolish word, Thy mercy on Thy people, Lord. "Amen.
Страница 351 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him ! But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Страница 288 - Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of, forgotten lore, — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door: Only this and nothing more.
Страница 323 - Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.
Страница 291 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...