Library of the World's Best Literature: Ancient and Modern, Volume 40Charles Dudley Warner International Society, 1897 |
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Page 16335
... rest at the door wid the bright moon above , And she's sittin ' in the middle ; When she's guessed Larry's riddle ; Cries , " Now for your fiddle , Shiel Dhuv , Shiel Dhuv . " Oh , where Can her like be found ? No SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS ...
... rest at the door wid the bright moon above , And she's sittin ' in the middle ; When she's guessed Larry's riddle ; Cries , " Now for your fiddle , Shiel Dhuv , Shiel Dhuv . " Oh , where Can her like be found ? No SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS ...
Page 16336
... rest in a cradle of gold on a bough of the willow , To the shoheen ho of the wind of the west and the lulla lo of the soft sea billow . Sleep , baby dear , Sleep without fear : Mother is here beside your pillow . I'd put my own sweet ...
... rest in a cradle of gold on a bough of the willow , To the shoheen ho of the wind of the west and the lulla lo of the soft sea billow . Sleep , baby dear , Sleep without fear : Mother is here beside your pillow . I'd put my own sweet ...
Page 16354
... rest . The words of mercy were upon his lips , Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen , When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse To thoughts of peace on earth , good - will to men . The Old World and the New , from sea to sea ...
... rest . The words of mercy were upon his lips , Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen , When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse To thoughts of peace on earth , good - will to men . The Old World and the New , from sea to sea ...
Page 16372
... rest , - For I've laid you , darling , down to sleep , With your baby on your breast . I'm very lonely now , Mary , For the poor make no new friends ; But , oh , they love the better still The few our Father sends ! And you were all I ...
... rest , - For I've laid you , darling , down to sleep , With your baby on your breast . I'm very lonely now , Mary , For the poor make no new friends ; But , oh , they love the better still The few our Father sends ! And you were all I ...
Page 16377
... rest , Or in its nakedness , return Back to its mother's breast . The soldier falls ' mid corses piled Upon the battle - plain , Where reinless war - steeds gallop wild Above the gory slain ; But though his corse be grim to see , Hoof ...
... rest , Or in its nakedness , return Back to its mother's breast . The soldier falls ' mid corses piled Upon the battle - plain , Where reinless war - steeds gallop wild Above the gory slain ; But though his corse be grim to see , Hoof ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALFRED PERCIVAL GRAVES arms Author Unknown beauty Ben Bolt bird blossom blue bonnie brave breast breath bright brow Charles Charles Godfrey Leland cried dark Davy Jones dead dear doth dream earth Eily Considine Emma Lazarus eyes F. W. BOURDILLON face fair fear feet FIONA MACLEOD flowers George Walter Thornbury gleam gold golden grave gray green hair hame hand hath hear heart heaven Hurrah king kiss lady land laugh light lips live Lizette Woodworth Reese look Lord love's lover maiden Maryland merry morning mother ne'er never night o'er pain RICHARD BARNFIELD ROBERT BUCHANAN rose round Says the shan shan van vocht shine shore sing sleep smile song soul star-spangled banner stars strong sweet sword tears tell thee There's thine thou thought to-night toll tree twas voice waves wild wind wings wyll
Popular passages
Page 16432 - Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there : Oh, say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave? On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Page 16432 - Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave...
Page 16510 - Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse ; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there...
Page 16568 - No braying horn nor screaming fife At dawn shall call to arms. Their shivered swords are red with rust, Their plumed heads are bowed; Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, Is now their martial shroud. And plenteous funeral tears have washed The red stains from each brow, And the proud forms, by battle gashed, Are free from anguish now. The neighing troop, the flashing blade, The bugle's stirring blast, The charge, the dreadful cannonade, The din and shout are past: Nor war's wild note, nor glory's...
Page 16589 - When I lie tangled in her hair, And fettered to her eye ; The gods that wanton in the air, Know no such liberty. When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses bound, Our hearts with loyal flames ; When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go free, Fishes that tipple in the deep, Know no such liberty.
Page 16394 - 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.
Page 16622 - Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the Flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews.
Page 16511 - ... reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! — To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all!
Page 16412 - 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! The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well — The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well.
Page 16404 - WHILE thee I seek, protecting Power, Be my vain wishes stilled; And may this consecrated hour With better hopes be filled. 2 Thy love the power of thought bestowed; To thee my thoughts would soar: Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed; That mercy I adore.