St. Nicholas: A Monthly Magazine for Boys and Girls, 4. kötet,1. rész

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72. oldal - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
68. oldal - Tis brightness all ; save where the new snow melts Along the mazy current. Low, the woods Bow their hoar head...
364. oldal - The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree; It walks on the water and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the top of the hills.
367. oldal - Modest and shy as a nun is she ; One weak chirp is her only note ; Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he, Pouring boasts from his little throat, Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, Never was I afraid of man, Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. Chee, chee, chee.
72. oldal - Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight : the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
66. oldal - Ring out, ye crystal spheres, Once bless our human ears, If ye have power to touch our senses so, And let your silver chime Move in melodious time ; And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow ; And, with your ninefold harmony, Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.
58. oldal - Monday's child is fair of face/ Tuesday's child is full of grace/ Wednesday's child is full of woe/ Thursday's child has far to go...
65. oldal - So fair to be seen. Love and joy come to you. And to your wassail too, And God bless you, and send you A Happy New Year ! We are not daily beggars. That beg from door to door : But we are neighbours' children, Whom you have seen before.
71. oldal - ... streams. And dim receding valleys, hid before By interposing trees, lay visible Through the bare grove, and my familiar haunts Seemed new to me. Nor was I slow to come Among them, when the clouds from their still skirts Had shaken down on earth the feathery snow, And all was white. The pure keen air abroad, Albeit it breathed no scent of herb, nor heard Love-call of bird nor merry hum of bee, Was not the air of death.
364. oldal - 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! Like an army defeated The Snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill...

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