One Hundred Narrative Poems

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George E. Teter
Scott, Foresman, 1918 - American poetry - 436 pages

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Page 210 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Page 72 - I met a little cottage girl : She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head.
Page 46 - said young Lochinvar. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume, And the bridemaidens whispered, "'Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Page 369 - I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful — a faery's child; Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.
Page 341 - Behind him lay the gray Azores, Behind the Gates of Hercules ; Before him not the ghost of shores, Before him only shoreless seas. The good mate said : " Now must we pray, For lo ! the very stars are gone. Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say...
Page 200 - 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.
Page 123 - Or like the borealis race That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form Evanishing amid the storm. Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches Tam maun ride; That hour, o...
Page 342 - Sail on ! sail on ! and on !" They sailed ! They sailed ! Then spake the mate : "This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. He curls his lip, he lies in wait, With lifted teeth, as if to bite ! Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word : What shall we do when hope is gone?" The words leapt like a leaping sword ; "Sail on ! sail on ! and on !" Then pale and worn, he kept his deck, And peered through darkness.
Page 363 - Camelot ; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro* the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.
Page 201 - 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.

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