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The Howe Readers by Grades: Book Seven (Classic Reprint)
Will David Howe
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2017
American appeared arms asked began bells better break calico called captain clear comes cried danger dark English entered eyes face feeling feet fish follow girl give Griffith half hand head hear heard heart hills hold hope keep kind King Lady land leaves light live look madam master meet mind morning move nature never night once pass peace pilot plain play reach rest Robin Hood roll rose round sails seemed ship side snow soon sound speak spirit stand stood stories sure tell thing thou thought took trees Turkey turned vessel voice wind wish yards young
Seite 161 - I hang like a roof, The mountains its columns be. The triumphal arch through which I march With hurricane, fire, and snow, When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, Is the million-coloured bow; The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove, While the moist earth was laughing below.
Seite 103 - Did send a dismal sheen : Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken — The ice was all between. The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around : It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, Like noises in a swound...
Seite 218 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold. There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st, But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims ; Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it...
Seite 108 - Blessed is he who has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness. He has a work, a life-purpose; he has found it, and will follow it!
Seite 193 - Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells ; — how it dwells On the Future ! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells...
Seite 145 - ULYSSES. IT little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
Seite 193 - Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire...
Seite 192 - How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.