The London readers. First (-Sixth) reader

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Page 179 - I remember, I remember The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from- Heaven Than when I was a boy.
Page 185 - When but an idle boy, I sought its 'grateful shade; In all their gushing joy Here too my sisters played. My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my hand, — Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand!
Page 172 - What ails thee, young one? what? why pull so at thy cord? Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be; Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee?
Page 172 - The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink ; I heard a voice, it said, Drink, pretty Creature, drink ! And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied, A snow-white mountain Lamb with a Maiden at its side. No other sheep were near, the Lamb was all alone, And by a slender cord was tether'd to a stone...
Page 184 - I'll protect it now. Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea — And wouldst thou hew it down?
Page 172 - Towards the lamb she looked ; and from that shady place I unobserved could see the workings of her face : If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring, Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing:
Page 177 - I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem ; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
Page 172 - Rest, little young one, rest ; thou hast forgot the day When my father found thee first in places far away...
Page 173 - I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there; The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play, When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey. "Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky; Night and day thou art safe, — our cottage is hard by. Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain? Sleep — and at break of day I will come to thee again!
Page 186 - T is thine, my God, — the same that kept My resting hours from harm ; No ill came nigh me, for I slept Beneath th' Almighty's arm. 3 'T is thine, my daily bread that brings, Like manna scattered round, And clothes me, as the lily springs In beauty from the ground. 4...

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