What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Acrostic anoder Auld Lang Syne bell Betsy birds bless blue boat brother's keeper bull cat-tails Charco Charles Dickens child Christmas cold dark dead dear Death Dialogue Dora EMPTY NEST eyes father flowers folks Good-night grave Gray hand Hark ye head hear heart Heaven hill Jean Anderson jintleman John judgment day Katie Katie Lee Katydid King kiss laugh live look Lord Lucknow mamma Mark Antony Miss Mills mother mule never night o'er Palmerston papa Paper binding Paul played pray Prayer Ring river rose Saint Ambrose Sangsby Santa Claus Scrooge sing sleep Song soul Speech Story sweet Tableau tears thee there's thet thing thou thought to-night Tony Lee tree Twas voice wait wery wild wind word young
Page 148 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns," he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Page 10 - ... twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve, the censure of which one must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others.
Page 149 - Came thro' the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.
Page 96 - Thou, too, sail on. O Ship of State ! Sail on, O UNION, strong and great ! Humanity, with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate...
Page 100 - And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
Page 139 - BY the flow of the inland river, Whence the fleets of iron have fled, Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver Asleep are the ranks of the dead; — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; — Under the one, the Blue; Under the other, the Gray.
Page 156 - Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged away.
Page 148 - I have but one request to ask at my departure from this world: it is - the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and me rest in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, and my memory in oblivion, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph...
Page 105 - THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.