What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Alfred Tennyson Alice arms Baucis beautiful began Boabdil brother climbed cried dark definition and pronunciation Don Quixote door enchanted eyes face feet fell Find the definition flowers Gluck gold Golden River governor grass hand head heard heart horse Isaac Johann David Wyss King Arthur Knight Lady laugh light looked Merlin morning mountain never o'er Old Castile passed Perronet Philemon Philemon and Baucis Pickwick pitcher poor queen Quicksilver replied Rip Van Winkle Rocinante rocks round saddle sail Sancho Sandy Schwartz seemed seen ship shout shun side Sindbad Sir Bedivere Sir Launfal Sir Lucan Sir Mordred smile Snodgrass soldier soon stones stood story strange sword tell thee thing thou thought told took tree turned village vocabulary wall wild wind wonderful wood words young
Page 88 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams ; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Page 366 - But now farewell. I am going a long way With these thou see'st — if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) — To the island-valley of Avilion ; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
Page 89 - Over earth and ocean with gentle motion This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea...
Page 329 - Once more he stept into the street, And to his lips again Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane; And ere he blew three notes (such sweet Soft notes as yet musician's cunning Never gave the enraptured air) There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering.
Page 344 - On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes. It was a bright, sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft and breasting the pure mountain breeze. "Surely," thought Rip. "I have not slept here all night.
Page 337 - Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals of foolish, well-oiled dispositions who take the world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be got with least thought or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to...
Page 367 - And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea. Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere Revolving many memories, till the hull Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, And on the mere the wailing died away. But when that moan had past for evermore, The stillness of...
Page 337 - Morning, noon, and night her tongue was incessantly going, and everything he said or did was sure to produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lectures of the kind, and that, by frequent use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing.
Page 351 - Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand : war — congress — Stony Point; — he had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair, " Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle ? " " Oh, Rip Van Winkle ! " exclaimed two or three, '• Oh, to be sure ! that's Rip Van Winkle yonder,...
Page 33 - I WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.