Standard Catholic Readers: First-[fifth] reader, Book 4

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American Book Company, 1909 - Readers
 

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Page 317 - I chatter over stony ways, in little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret, by many a field and fallow, and many a fairy foreland set with willow-weed and mallow. I chatter, chatter, as I flow to join the brimming river; for men may come and men may go, but I go on for ever. I wind about, and in and out, with here a blossom sailing, and here and there a lusty trout, and here and there a grayling.
Page 179 - My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by : They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly; So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to rest his head.
Page 316 - I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern To bicker down a valley.
Page 360 - Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming; Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming? And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Page 179 - 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.
Page 177 - 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 111 - And still fluttered down the snow. I stood and watched by the window The noiseless work of the sky, And the sudden flurries of snowbirds, Like brown leaves whirling by. I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn Where a little headstone stood; How the flakes were folding it gently, As did robins the babes in the wood. Up spoke our own little Mabel, Saying, "Father, who makes it snow?
Page 353 - Blessed are they that mourn : for they shall be comforted. Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after justice : for they shall have their fill.
Page 311 - On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless! but his horror was still more increased on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of...
Page 208 - LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home! Lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene — one Step enough for me.

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