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" And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor. "
The Book of Oratory: A New Collection of Extracts in Prose, Poetry and ... - 305. oldal
1856 - 500 oldal
Teljes nézet - Információ erről a könyvről

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, 43. kötet

1844 - 454 oldal
...children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the naming forge, Aid hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly, Like chaff from a threshing floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys ; He hears the parson pray...

American Monthly Knickerbocker, 16. kötet

1840 - 566 oldal
...is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning...He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter s voice, Singing in the village choir. And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like...

American Monthly Knickerbocker, 16. kötet

1840 - 576 oldal
...is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning...He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter s voice, Singing in the village choir. And it makes his neart rejoice. It sounds to him like...

American Monthly Knickerbocker, 16. kötet

1840 - 560 oldal
...is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door j They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning...sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor. v. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys; He heats the parson pray and preach, He...

The Poets of America, 2. kötet

John Keese - 1842 - 336 oldal
...low. And children coming home from school, Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning...the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. 37 It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise ! He needs...

Ballads and Other Poems

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - 1842 - 148 oldal
...is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys ; He hears the parson pray...

The Children's Magazine and Missionary Repository, 19. kötet

1856 - 1026 oldal
...is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a thrashing floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys; He hears the parson pray...

The Poets and Poetry of America: With an Historical Introduction

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1842 - 638 oldal
...Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And cateh the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor. He goes on Sunday to the chureh, And sits among his boys ; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter's voice,...

The United States Magazine and Democratic Review, 13. kötet

1843 - 678 oldal
...is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar. And catch the burning...her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise ! He needs most think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear...

United States Magazine and Democratic Review, 13. kötet

1843 - 708 oldal
...is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar. And catch the burning...to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise I He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he...




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