Poetry for children, selected by L. Aikin1806 |
Table des matières
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Autres éditions - Tout afficher
Expressions et termes fréquents
æther Alps beneath billows birds blessings bloom blows bosom breast breeze bright bursts busy busy Bee CHARIOT RACE cheerful clouds cold courser crown'd delight distant DRYDEN DRYDEN'S VIRGIL Ev'n ev'ry eyes flocks flood flower fragrant gale glory golden GRAMPUS green ground groves hare Hare and Tortoise heart Heaven hills Hippopotamus huntsman hyæna kiss of love lark light limbs Little flutt'rer lonely LUCY AIKIN marmot mead mighty heart morn mountains murmur night o'er Orphan Boy painted banks pass'd Pelew Piedmontese pine-apples plain POPE'S HOMER pride Propontis rage rise roar rocks roll sails scene shade shepherd shining shore shower sings skies sleep smiling snow song sound spread spring storms stream stretch'd swain sweet swell tawny eagle tear tempest thee thou busy busy thro tide toil torrent tortoise trees trembling vale WAR HORSE warbling waves wide wild winds wings Winter woods young youth
Fréquemment cités
Page 18 - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire.
Page 67 - See the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again ; The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Page 104 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 4 - O tell your poor blind boy ! You talk of wondrous things you see, You say the sun shines bright ; I feel him warm, but how can he Or make it day or night ? My day or night myself I make Whene'er I sleep or play ; And could I ever keep awake With me 'twere always day. With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe ; But sure with patience I can bear A loss I ne'er can know.
Page 55 - Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, When first from Schiraz
Page 31 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Page 144 - No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar...
Page 102 - What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted ! Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just ; And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
Page 48 - While from the bounded level of our mind Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind ; But more...
Page 120 - Silently as a dream the fabric rose; No sound of hammer or of saw was there.