High Days & Holidays

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E. P. Dutton, 1927 - Всего страниц: 335
 

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Стр. 11 - Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow; The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Стр. 165 - WHEN Freedom, from her mountain height, Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there ! She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure, celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle-bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land...
Стр. 197 - Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave: And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave...
Стр. 312 - To you, in David's town, this day Is born, of David's line, The Saviour, who is Christ the Lord ; And this shall be the sign : — 4 " The heavenly babe you there shall find To human view displayed, All meanly wrapped in swathing bands, And in a manger laid.
Стр. 76 - Woodman, spare that tree ! Touch not a single bough ! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea — And wouldst thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties...
Стр. 195 - Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore. Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with th.ee.
Стр. 91 - All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and Heaven is overflowed.
Стр. 151 - From the silence of sorrowful hours The desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers Alike for the friend and the foe: Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the Judgment Day: Under the roses, the Blue, Under the lilies, the Gray.
Стр. 86 - White are his shoulders and white his crest, Hear him call in his merry note : Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Look, what a nice new coat is mine, Sure there was never a bird so fine. Chee, chee, chee.
Стр. 154 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

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