The revised series. First (-Sixth) reader, ed. by T. Morrison

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Thomas Morrison (LL.D.)
1884

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Page 55 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow ; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Page 73 - TOLL for the brave ! The brave that are no more ! All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore. Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset ; Down went the Royal George With all her crew complete.
Page 120 - A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind!
Page 40 - 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 1 " And everybody praised the Duke Who this great fight did win.
Page 163 - 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.
Page 39 - IT was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done; And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun, And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine. She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round...
Page 26 - Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
Page 56 - WE were crowded in the cabin, Not a soul would dare to sleep, — It was midnight on the waters, And a storm was on the deep. 'Tis a fearful thing in winter To be shattered by the blast, And to hear the rattling trumpet Thunder, "Cut away the mast!
Page 197 - Oh to abide in the desert with thee! Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
Page 50 - For pinching days are near. The fireside for the cricket, The wheat-stack for the mouse, When trembling night-winds whistle And moan all round the house. The frosty ways like iron, The branches plumed with snow, — Alas! in Winter dead and dark, Where can poor Robin go? Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! And a crumb of bread for Robin, His little heart to cheer!

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