A complete course of English composition

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Charles Bean, 1868 - Всего страниц: 276
 

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Стр. 66 - 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 watchdog's...
Стр. 103 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Стр. 104 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown . For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Стр. 103 - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow.
Стр. 108 - His house was known to all the vagrant train ; He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain...
Стр. 111 - Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the Northeast, The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and smote amain The vessel in its strength; She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, Then leaped her cable's length.
Стр. 107 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year...
Стр. 129 - Twas autumn — and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.
Стр. 86 - THE stately homes of England ! How beautiful they stand Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land! The deer across their greensward bound Through shade and sunny gleam ; And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream. The merry homes of England! Around their hearths by night What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light! There woman's voice flows forth in song, Or childhood's tale is told ; Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page...
Стр. 102 - 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. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.

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