Higher Lessons in English: A Work on English Grammar and Composition, in which the Science of the Language is Made Tributary to the Art of Expression : a Course of Practical Lessons Carefully Graded, and Adapted to Everyday Use in the School-room, 2. könyv

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Maynard, Merrill & Company, 1896 - 386 oldal
 

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315. oldal - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware.
320. oldal - The sober herd that lowed to meet their young, The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school, The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
318. oldal - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
343. oldal - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
77. oldal - Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who having eyes see not, and having ears hear...
318. oldal - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.
341. oldal - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long...
350. oldal - And it came to pass at the seventh time, that he said, Behold, there ariseth a little cloud out of the sea like a man's hand.
327. oldal - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
352. oldal - And he knew it, and said, It is my son's coat; an evil beast hath devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces.

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