ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
لم نعثر على أي مراجعات في الأماكن المعتادة.
ain't arms asked baby beautiful called child clear close comes cried dark dead dear death door earth eyes face fall father feel feet fell fire girl give glory goin grave hair half hand head hear heard heart heaven hold hope hour Italy kiss light lives look meet mind morning mother nature never night once passed poor reached rolled round seemed seen side sing sleep smile song soul sound speak stand stood streets sweet tears tell thee things thou thought to-day took town true turned Uncle voice walk wall watch whole wind wonder young
الصفحة 287 - Sleep soft, beloved!" we sometimes say, But have no tune to charm away Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep. But never doleful dream again Shall break the happy slumber when He giveth His beloved, sleep.
الصفحة 19 - O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
الصفحة 293 - And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, To fight for his own holy name, and Henry of Navarre.
الصفحة 298 - Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest l thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more: Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
الصفحة 120 - There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night And grief may bide an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light.
الصفحة 240 - The nation which indulges towards another an habitual hatred or an habitual fondness is in some degree a slave. It is a slave to its animosity or to its affection, either of which is sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its interest.
الصفحة 30 - Nell," on English meadows Wandered and lost their way. And so in mountain solitudes— o'ertaken As by some spell divine — Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken From out the gusty pine. Lost is that camp, and wasted all its fire: And he who wrought that spell? — Ah, towering pine and stately Kentish spire, Ye have one tale to tell!
الصفحة 1 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.