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Pàgina 194 - 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...
Pàgina 222 - Like the birch-leaf palpitated, As the deer came down the pathway. Then upon one knee uprising, Hiawatha aimed an arrow; Scarce a twig moved with his motion, Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled, But the wary roebuck started, Stamped with all his hoofs together, Listened with one foot uplifted, Leaped as if to meet the arrow; Ah! the singing, fatal arrow, Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him!
Pàgina 193 - Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me : — ' Pipe a song about a lamb :
Pàgina 145 - THE BAREFOOT BOY BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; 291 From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy!
Pàgina 218 - Then the little Hiawatha Learned of every bird its language, Learned their names and all their secrets, How they built their nests in Summer, Where they hid themselves in Winter, Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them
Pàgina 176 - seven times" over and over. Seven times one are seven. I am old, so old. I can write a letter; My birthday lessons are done; The lambs play always, they know no better; They are only one times one.
Pàgina 180 - How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew!
Pàgina 166 - Alas, alas ! how very soon this silly little Fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by ; With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew, Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue — Thinking only of her crested head — poor foolish thing ! At last, Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
Pàgina 180 - THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. HOW dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view ! The orchard, the meadow, the...
Pàgina 182 - Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips And now, far removed from the loved situation, The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well ; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in his well.