Werner's Readings and Recitations, Ausgabe 41

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E.S. Werner, 1908
 

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Seite 86 - O men with Sisters dear ! O men with Mothers and Wives! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives! Stitch - stitch - stitch, In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt.
Seite 115 - In days of childhood, Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On this I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee; With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the River Lee.
Seite 87 - 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
Seite 87 - Oh ! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet; With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet ; For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And tbv walk that costs a meal...
Seite 93 - 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 She sang the "Song of the Shirt!
Seite 164 - Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home ; A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home ! home ! sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home...
Seite 90 - But why do I talk of Death ? That phantom of grisly bone ? I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own — It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep ; Oh, God! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap...
Seite 89 - Seam , and gusset , and band , Band , and gusset , and seam , Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream! "O men with sisters dear! O men with mothers and wives! It is not linen you're wearing out , But human creatures
Seite 24 - My native country, thee, Land of the noble free, Thy name I love ; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills Like that above.
Seite 65 - Broidered with gold, the Blue, Mellowed with gold, the Gray. So, when the summer calleth, On forest and field of grain, With an equal murmur falleth The cooling drip of the rain...

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