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accent marks accented syllable action-words baby Bess black-board breath breve cap circumflex dear Desire pupils dissyllables ending draw drills equivalent Exceptions are found Explain family name final consonants finger following words found in front give glide obscure inflection Lead pupils Letter song lips Long family macron mamma mark and sound mark the vowel marked short marked silent marking and pronouncing meaning monosyllables mouth name-words noun obscure sound place the accent plurals ponies poum preceded prefix Present the following Present the word Present words pronunciation proper diphthongs reading lesson remember rule scales second syllable sentences Short family short Italian short vowels Show silent letter sing Spellers stanza suffix syllables beginning teacher teeth tell Thumbkins tongue trisyllables unaccented syllable Uncle Nat verb voice voice letter vowel sound WESTERN PUBLISHING whisper words beginning words ending words found xebec
Page 195 - BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay ! 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...
Page 196 - And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Page 195 - She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her waggon spokes made of long spinners...
Page 193 - Amidst the mists and coldest frosts, With barest wrists and stoutest boasts, He thrusts his fists against the posts, And still insists he sees the ghosts.
Page 197 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be.
Page 196 - Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 196 - O sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done The voice, that now is speaking, may be beyond the sun— For ever and for ever with those just souls and true — And what is life, that we should moan ? why make we such ado...
Page 200 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.