Philips' series of reading books for public elementary schools, ed. by J.G. Cromwell, Livre 2

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Table des matières


Expressions et termes fréquents

Fréquemment cités

Page 69 - A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind!
Page 148 - BY cool Siloam's shady rill, How sweet the lily grows ! How sweet the breath beneath the hill Of Sharon's dewy rose ! 2 Lo ! such the child whose early feet The paths of peace have trod ; Whose secret heart, with influence sweet, Is upward drawn to God...
Page 53 - The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one!
Page 151 - Father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!" —And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.
Page 151 - And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on. Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair, And looked from that lone post of death In still yet brave despair. And shouted but once more aloud, "My father! must I stay?
Page 150 - The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck, Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm ; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form.
Page 151 - And looked from that lone post of death In still yet brave despair ; And shouted but once more aloud, " My father ! must I stay ?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way.
Page 144 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Page 28 - THE VIOLET. DOWN in a green and shady bed, A modest violet grew, Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view.
Page 46 - OH ! call my brother back to me ! I cannot play alone ; The Summer comes with flower and bee — Where is my brother gone ? " The butterfly is glancing bright Across the sunbeam's track ; I care not now to chase its flight — Oh ! call my brother back ! " The flowers run wild — the flowers we sow'd Around our garden tree; Our vine is drooping with its load — Oh ! call him back to me...

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