The Primary Union Speaker: Containing Original and Selected Pieces for Declamation and Recitation in Primary Schools

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Taggard & Thompson, 1866 - 159 oldal

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39. oldal - AY, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky ; — Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar ; The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes...
129. oldal - Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.
103. oldal - What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — They sought a faith's pure shrine. Ay, call it holy ground, — The soil where first they trod! They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God ! Felicia Hemans.
26. oldal - 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...
88. oldal - Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior! "Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest Thy weary head upon this breast!
19. oldal - ... is a book, who runs may read, Which heavenly truth imparts, And all the lore its scholars need, Pure eyes and Christian hearts. 2 The works of God, above, below, Within us and around, Are pages in that book to show How God Himself is found.
21. oldal - Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went, The lamb was sure to go.
93. oldal - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
73. oldal - SPEAK gently ! it is better far To rule by love than fear ; Speak gently ! let no harsh words mar The good we might do here.
147. oldal - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

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