What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Abridged American answered asked August beautiful began better birds blue born bright called Canute child cold coming cried dark dear died earth English eyes face father feet flowers followed friends gave give gold golden gray green hand happy head heard heart hills hundred Italy kind King leaves light lived looked matter Midas mother never night NOTE once pass Patrasche play poet poor river rose round seemed seen side singing snow soon spring stand stars stay Stone Stone Face story stove sure sweet tell things Thou thought told took Touch town tree turned valley voice walked wall watch whole wild wind winter wish wood young
Page 263 - Although thy breath be rude. Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly.
Page 121 - I CHATTER over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow. I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Page 88 - Heaven is not reached at a single bound ; But we build the ladder by which we rise From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to its summit, round by round.
Page 17 - Old Kaspar took it from the boy Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh " 'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory.
Page 170 - Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
Page 272 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand?
Page 17 - IT wAS a summer evening; Old Kaspar's work was done. And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun; And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine. She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round. Which he beside the rivulet In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found. That was so large and smooth and round. Old Kaspar took it from the boy, Who stood...
Page 168 - And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. The ungodly are not so, but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away. Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.
Page 93 - The poetry of earth is ceasing never : • On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever, And seems, to one in drowsiness half lost, The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.