Què en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
arms beautiful bless breath bring child close cold comes cried dark dead dear death deep don't door dream earth eyes face fair fall father fear feel feet fell fire five flowers give glory gone grave hand head hear heard heart heaven hold hope hour John keep knew lady land leave light lips live look Lord lost mind morning mother never night o'er once pass poor pray rest round seemed side smile soon soul sound speak spirit stand stood sure sweet tears tell thee There's thing thou thought told took true turned Twas voice walk wife young
Pàgina 81 - Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile, The short and simple annals of the poor.
Pàgina 155 - Old Kaspar took it from the boy, Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh, ' 'Tis some poor fellow's skull,' said he, 'Who fell in the great victory.
Pàgina 84 - Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode — (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God.
Pàgina 82 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide. To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Pàgina 83 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree ; Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he ; The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Pàgina 156 - They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun; But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory. "Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, And our good Prince Eugene." "Why 'twas a very wicked thing!" Said little Wilhelmine. "Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, "It was a famous victory.
Pàgina 125 - But we loved with a love that was more than love — I and my Annabel Lee ; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.
Pàgina 81 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.