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ABRAHAM LINCOLN AjuL baby birds ball Bennie Boy Biddie Widdie blue boat brook Bumpville butter buzz Christmas day cradle daisies dogs dress earth eggs Eugene Field fair lady fairy flag flowers Fold GEORGE WASHINGTON glass leaves gold leaves good-by Goosey Gander Grace horse Indians jump kite Lincoln little birds Little Bo Peep little pine tree little rabbit little tree lived London Bridge look Mamma painted Mayflower MEMORIZED milk moon morning nest night Nursery Rhyme Papa paper dolls pebbles pegs PHONETIC EXERCISE play the purple playmate pretty things Queen rabbit gray rainbow colors rains red hood REVIEW WORDS ring Rock-a-bye Rooster sail sang Shep shines ship Shut-eye train Silver and gold Sing a song sing On Christmas sky is falling sleep splints stars swing tell the king tent Turkey walked weave White sea wind blows window Wood and clay
Page 54 - 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.
Page 70 - Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep, And can't tell where to find them; Leave them alone, and they'll come home, And bring their tails behind them.
Page 117 - For peace and for plenty, for freedom, for rest, For joy in the land, from the east to the west; For the dear starry flag with its red, white, and blue, We thank Thee from hearts that are honest and true.
Page 4 - Then hurrah for the flag! our country's flag, Its stripes and white stars too; There is no flag in any land, Like our own "Red, White and Blue!
Page 85 - And all the bells on earth shall ring, On Christmas day in the morning. And all the angels in Heaven shall sing, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the angels in Heaven shall sing, On Christmas day in the morning.
Page 82 - OUT of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow. Even as our cloudy fancies take Suddenly shape in some divine expression, Even as the troubled heart doth make In the white countenance confession, The troubled sky reveals The grief it feels. This is the poem of the air, Slowly in silent syllables recorded ; This is the secret of despair, Long in...
Page 4 - THERE are many flags in many lands, There are flags of every hue, But there is no flag, however grand, Like our own
Page 82 - He giveth snow like wool : he scattereth the hoar frost like ashes. He casteth forth his ice like morsels : who can stand before his cold ? He sendeth out his word, and melteth them : he causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow.