The Speaker's Garland and Literary Bouquet: Combining 100 Choice Selections, Nos. 1, 2, 3 and 4. Four Vol. in One. Embracing Rare Poetical Gems, Fine Specimens Oratory ...P. Garrett & Company, 1876 |
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... Brave at Home , The ......... Bugle Song .... T. Buchanan Read . ii . ...... Alfred Tennyson . ii . Burning Prairie , The ... Bells of Shandon , The .... Betty and the Bear .... Alice Carey , iii . Francis Mahony . iii . iii . Bridal ...
... Brave at Home , The ......... Bugle Song .... T. Buchanan Read . ii . ...... Alfred Tennyson . ii . Burning Prairie , The ... Bells of Shandon , The .... Betty and the Bear .... Alice Carey , iii . Francis Mahony . iii . iii . Bridal ...
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... Brave Woman of Nashville ... Heaven ...... His Eye was Stern and Wild ... Heathen Chinee , or Plain Language from Truthful James ..... Hallowed Ground ......... How the Gates Came Ajar ....... Heathen Chinee's Reply , The ...
... Brave Woman of Nashville ... Heaven ...... His Eye was Stern and Wild ... Heathen Chinee , or Plain Language from Truthful James ..... Hallowed Ground ......... How the Gates Came Ajar ....... Heathen Chinee's Reply , The ...
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... brave , Are hidden and lost in the depth of the grave . The peasant whose lot to sow and to reap ; The herdsman , who climbed with his goats up the steep ; The beggar , who wandered in search of his bread , Have faded away like the ...
... brave , Are hidden and lost in the depth of the grave . The peasant whose lot to sow and to reap ; The herdsman , who climbed with his goats up the steep ; The beggar , who wandered in search of his bread , Have faded away like the ...
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... brave ! thy folds shall fly , The sign of hope and triumph high ! When speaks the signal - trumpet tone , And the long line comes gleaming on , Ere yet the life - blood , warm and wet , Has dimm'd the glistening bayonet , Each soldier's ...
... brave ! thy folds shall fly , The sign of hope and triumph high ! When speaks the signal - trumpet tone , And the long line comes gleaming on , Ere yet the life - blood , warm and wet , Has dimm'd the glistening bayonet , Each soldier's ...
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... brave Englishman ? Cried the little Esoniaux . Between the land and the polar star My goodly vessels go . Come down , if you would journey there The little Indian said ; And change your cloth for fur clothing , Your vessel for a sled ...
... brave Englishman ? Cried the little Esoniaux . Between the land and the polar star My goodly vessels go . Come down , if you would journey there The little Indian said ; And change your cloth for fur clothing , Your vessel for a sled ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Alfred Tennyson arms Bardell beautiful bells beneath bless blood brave breast breath bright brow child cold cried Dacotahs dark dead dear death deep door dream dying earth eyes face fall father fell fellah fire flag flowers gazed glory gone grave hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha honor hour Ishmael Day JOSH BILLINGS land Lars Porsena laugh Laughing Water light lips live look Lord morning mother N. P. Willis neath never Nevermore night Nokomis o'er pale Pickwick poor pray prayer Quoth the raven ring SHAMUS Shibboleth shout silence sleep smile sorrow soul Spartacus spirit stand star-spangled banner stars stood sweet sword tears tell thee there's thing thou thought Toll Twas voice wave weary weep wife wild wonder word young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 7 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Seite 35 - Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged.
Seite 134 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Seite 103 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do, lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious. If it were so, it was a grievous fault; And grievously hath Caesar answered it.
Seite 92 - Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest — Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! THE LOST PLEIAD.
Seite 59 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide,- And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
Seite 126 - Came through the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell, — All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.
Seite 71 - Thrilled me— filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, " 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more.
Seite 59 - for Aix is in sight!' 'How they'll greet us!' — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
Seite 109 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make, With a bare bodkin?