Poetical reader suitable for the fourth standard of elementary schools, selected and arranged with explanatory notes by J. BoothJames Booth (head master of the Caledonian schools, Liverpool) 1881 |
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الصفحة 6
... GRAVE THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD THE WRECK OF THE ' HESPERUS ' Mrs. Norton T. Campbell Anon . • Mrs. Hemans . T. Campbell O. Goldsmith . Lushington Mrs. Norton Mrs. Hemans . 40 • 43 • • 46 48 • 50 · 52 v 54 · 57 · 59 · • Longfellow 61 ...
... GRAVE THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD THE WRECK OF THE ' HESPERUS ' Mrs. Norton T. Campbell Anon . • Mrs. Hemans . T. Campbell O. Goldsmith . Lushington Mrs. Norton Mrs. Hemans . 40 • 43 • • 46 48 • 50 · 52 v 54 · 57 · 59 · • Longfellow 61 ...
الصفحة 12
... grave : 1 Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow , As ye sweep through the deep While the stormy tempests blow ; While the battle rages long and loud , And the stormy tempests blow . Britannia needs no bulwarks ...
... grave : 1 Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow , As ye sweep through the deep While the stormy tempests blow ; While the battle rages long and loud , And the stormy tempests blow . Britannia needs no bulwarks ...
الصفحة 17
... grave , The lingering light of his boyhood's grace . Matted and damp are the curls of gold Kissing the snow of that fair young brow ; Pale are the lips of delicate mould- Somebody's darling is dying now . Back from the beautiful , blue ...
... grave , The lingering light of his boyhood's grace . Matted and damp are the curls of gold Kissing the snow of that fair young brow ; Pale are the lips of delicate mould- Somebody's darling is dying now . Back from the beautiful , blue ...
الصفحة 18
... grave a tear ; Carve on the wooden slab at his head- ' Somebody's darling lies buried here ! ' The above beautiful poem was written by an American lady during the terrible civil war which raged in the United States of America from 1861 ...
... grave a tear ; Carve on the wooden slab at his head- ' Somebody's darling lies buried here ! ' The above beautiful poem was written by an American lady during the terrible civil war which raged in the United States of America from 1861 ...
الصفحة 22
... grave ! While the billow mournful rolls , And the mermaid's song condoles , Singing glory to the souls Of the brave . ON GUARD . ( ANON . ) AT midnight , on my lonely beat , When shadow wraps the wood and lea , A vision seems my view to ...
... grave ! While the billow mournful rolls , And the mermaid's song condoles , Singing glory to the souls Of the brave . ON GUARD . ( ANON . ) AT midnight , on my lonely beat , When shadow wraps the wood and lea , A vision seems my view to ...
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Absalom ancient Assyria battle BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN beautiful beneath blaze blood blow born bosom brave breast breath bright brother brow Brutus burning Cæsar Cassius cold cried dark dead death deep died doth drum earth England ever-never eyes face fair farewell father fire flame fleet gallant grave hand hath hear heard heart heaven hill honourable Horatius JAMES MERRICK John Milton king land Lars Porsena light Lochinvar look Lord Lord Byron loud morn mourn N. P. WILLIS Netherby never night o'er once pale poems poet pray pride proud quoth Rebecs roar rolling Romans Rome round sail SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ships silent Skiddaw sleep smile snow Somebody's soon sorrow soul sound Southey spake spear steed stood storm Sudorifics sweet tear tell thee thine thought thunderstrike Twas voice waves weep wild winds young Lochinvar
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 31 - And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
الصفحة 182 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled Dawn doth rise...
الصفحة 175 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low.
الصفحة 53 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene...
الصفحة 125 - Sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
الصفحة 118 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap. Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
الصفحة 158 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
الصفحة 211 - Form! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity! 0 dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone.
الصفحة 96 - At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorn'd the venerable place ; Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
الصفحة 106 - An honest man's the noblest work of God;' And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind; What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd!