What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
auld Robin Gray beneath Betty Foy Betty's birds blessed bowers breast breast Men breath bright child clouds corn is green dark dead dear door doth dream earth ever—never Excelsior eyes fair Farewell father flowers Frances Osgood glowing gone grass grave green grief happy hath hear heard heart heaven hill hour Idiot Boy Johnny Lady Anne Lindsay Learn to labour leaves light lonely Longfellow looked loud Mary moon morning mother never Never—for night numbers o'er ocean pain Pony poor Susan porringer rest river Dee roar Robin round shade shining shining band shore sigh silent silver beech sing sleep smiles snow song sorrow soul sound spirit storm Susan Gale sweet tears tell thee There's thine things thou thought trees Twas vale village voice walked wandering wave weary weep wild wind wings woods Wordsworth
Page 258 - I REMEMBER. I remember, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window, where the sun Came peeping in at morn : He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away...
Page 101 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted...
Page 30 - Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place ; The white-wash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door ; The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day...
Page 81 - Far flashed the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave...
Page 157 - Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother: And in the churchyard cottage I Dwell near them with my mother.
Page 216 - For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago : Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day ? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again ? Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending ; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending ; I listened, motionless and still ; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
Page 47 - I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love ! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past ; Thy image at our last embrace ; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening, green ; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
Page 94 - I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves.