Hazen's Primer and First-[fifth] Reader, كتاب 3

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الصفحة 200 - SWEET and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon : Sleep, my little one, sleep,...
الصفحة 228 - My childhood's earliest thoughts are linked with thee ; The sight of thee calls back the robin's song, Who, from the dark old tree Beside the door, sang clearly all day long, And I, secure in childish piety, Listened as if I heard an angel sing With news from heaven, which he could bring Fresh every day to my untainted ears When birds and flowers and I were happy peers.
الصفحة 228 - When thou, for all thy gold, so common art ! Thou teachest me to deem More sacredly of every human heart, Since each reflects in joy its scanty gleam Of heaven, and could some wondrous secret show, Did we but pay the love we owe, And with a child's undoubting wisdom look On all these living pages of God's book.
الصفحة 227 - DANDELION. DEAR common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold, High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they An Eldorado in the grass have found, Which not the rich earth's ample round May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be. Gold such as thine ne'er drew the Spanish prow Through the primeval hush of Indian seas, Nor wrinkled the...
الصفحة 282 - Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever ; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long : And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever One grand, sweet song.
الصفحة 34 - How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew!
الصفحة 38 - And there we would stay In the beautiful skies, And through the bright clouds we would roam: We would see the sun set, And see the sun rise, And on the next rainbow come home.
الصفحة 35 - The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it; The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell; The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it. And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well!
الصفحة 274 - Bell," said she. Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks, Tossed aside her gleaming golden locks. " Bonny bird," quoth she, " Sing me your best song, before I go." " Here's the very finest song I know, Little Bell," said he. And the blackbird piped ; you never heard Half so gay a song from any bird, — Full of quips and wiles, Now so round and rich, now soft and slow, All for love of that sweet face below, Dimpled o'er with smiles.
الصفحة xxvii - My father's trade! by heaven, that's too bad! My father's trade? Why, blockhead, are you mad? My father, sir, did never stoop so low — He was a gentleman, I'd have you know.

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