The Globe readers (ed. by A.F. Murison). Primer 1,2

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Alexander Falconer Murison
1882
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Page 76 - we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you; We have as short a spring: As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing : We die, As your hours do ; and dry Away Like to the summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning dew, Ne'er to be found
Page 138 - this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand ! My heart-strings round thee cling, Close as thy bark, old friend! Here shall the wild-bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree ! the storm still brave ! And, woodman, leave the spot; While I've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not. GP
Page 114 - the ranks of death you'll find him, His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him. ' Land of song ! " said the warrior bard, " Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee ! " The minstrel fell!—but the foeman's chain Could not
Page 28 - in the rapid eddy plays. The frog has changed his yellow vest, And in a russet coat is drest. Though June, the air is cold and still, The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill. My dog, so altered in his taste, Quits mutton-bones, on grass to feast. And see yon rooks, how odd their flight!
Page 47 - To see this fight all people then Got up on trees and houses, On churches some, and chimneys too; But these put on their trousers, Not to spoil their hose. As soon as he rose, To make him strong and mighty, He drank, by the tale, six pots of ale And a quart of aqua-vitse. • It
Page 15 - cheerful face, And a bright, courageous eye, And bared his strong right arm for work, While the quick flames mounted high. And he sang, " Hurrah for my handiwork!" And the red sparks lit the air; Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made; " And he fashioned the First Ploughshare.
Page 45 - OF WANTLEY. OLD stories tell how Hercules A dragon slew at Lerna, With seven heads and fourteen eyes, To see and well discern-a : But he had a club, this dragon to drub, Or he ne'er had done it, I warrant ye : But More of More-hall, with nothing at all, He slew the dragon of Wantley.
Page 312 - each gone To his dwelling; Come, months, come away, Put on white, black, and grey; Let your light sisters play— Ye, follow the bier Of the dead, cold year, And make her grave green with tear on tear.
Page 164 - Not a feather she moves, not a carol she sings, As she waits in her tree so still; But when her heart heareth his napping wings, She hoots out her welcome shrill! O, when the moon shines, and the dogs do howl, Then, then is the cry of the horned owl
Page 84 - Little dost thou think, thou busy, busy bee, What is the end of thy toil! When the latest flowers of the ivy are gone, And all thy work for the year is done, Thy master comes for the spoil; Woe then for thee, thou busy, busy bee ! SOUTHEY. a-broad

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