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Page 35 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon...
Page 246 - 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.
Page 185 - Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all. He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play. And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see; I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!
Page 250 - Sleep — and at break of day I will come to thee again !" — As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet, This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat ; And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line, That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was mine. Again, and once again did I repeat the song ;
Page 247 - Right towards the lamb she looked ; and from a 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 : "What ails thee, young One?
Page 114 - Now, these rays were so bright, and they seemed to make such a shining way from earth to heaven, that when the child went to his solitary bed, he dreamed about the star; and dreamed that, lying where he was, he saw a train of people taken up that sparkling road by angels.
Page 59 - FOREIGN LANDS UP into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hands And looked abroad on foreign lands. I saw the next door garden lie, Adorned with flowers, before my eye, And many pleasant places more That I had never seen before.
Page 249 - Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran ; And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.