The Improved illustrated reader, Book 3

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Page 175 - It sounds. to him like her mother's voice Singing in Paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.
Page 42 - The western wind was wild and dank with foam, And all alone went she. The western tide crept up along the sand, And o'er and o'er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see. The rolling mist came down and hid the land: And never home came she.
Page 175 - Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought...
Page 176 - Through glowing orchards forth they peep, Each from its nook of leaves, And fearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath their eaves. The free fair homes of England, Long, long, in hut and hall, May hearts of native proof be reared To guard each hallowed wall. And green for ever be the groves, And bright the flowery sod, Where first the child's glad spirit loves Its country and its God.
Page 175 - The merry homes of England! Around their hearths by night What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light! There woman's voice flows forth in song, Or childhood's tale is told ; Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page of old.
Page 41 - O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home Across the sands of Dee!
Page 18 - To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind ; And the New-year's coming up, mother, but I shall never see The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree.
Page 19 - I'll come again, mother, from out my resting-place ; Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face : Though I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what you say, And be often often with you, when you think I'm far away.
Page 19 - And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid. I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you pass, With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass. I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now ; You'll kiss me, my own mother, and forgive me ere I go...
Page 19 - I THOUGHT to pass away before, and yet alive I am; And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of the lamb. How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year! To die before the snowdrop came, and now the violet's here.

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