The girl's first help to reading; or, Selections from the best authors, by T.A. Buckley

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Theodore Alors W. Buckley
G. Routledge and Company ... New York, 1854 - 184 Seiten
 

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Seite 53 - Go, lovely rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, — How...
Seite 30 - Turn, gentle hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way, To where yon taper cheers the vale, With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow ; Where wilds immeasurably spread Seem lengthening as I go." " Forbear, my son," the hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom.
Seite 58 - tis madness to defer: Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life. Procrastination is the thief of time ; Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
Seite 46 - And now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home...
Seite 46 - The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread ; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
Seite 164 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge!
Seite 99 - O flowers That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last At even, which I bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount...
Seite 67 - THERE was a roaring in the wind all night ; The rain came heavily and fell in floods ; But now the sun is rising calm and bright ; The birds are singing in the distant woods...
Seite 71 - While he was talking thus, the lonely place, The old Man's shape, and speech — all troubled me: In my mind's eye I seemed to see him pace About the weary moors continually, Wandering about alone and silently. While I these thoughts within myself pursued, He, having made a pause, the same discourse renewed.
Seite 106 - O 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...

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