Webster's Little Folks' Speaker: Comprising Many Standard Pieces, as Well as a Great Many Entirely Original, Both Sentimental and Humorous

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R.M. DeWitt, 1875 - Readers and speakers - 192 pages
 

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Page 31 - Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather...
Page 100 - His hair is crisp and black and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow : You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell When the evening sun is low.
Page 100 - And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Page 99 - The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Page 163 - I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the prospects of a future State, and bound across the unknown sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and winter surprises them on the deep, but brings them not the sight of the wished-for shore.
Page 149 - WE were crowded in the cabin ; Not a soul would dare to sleep : It was midnight on the waters, And a storm was on the deep. 'Tis a fearful thing in winter To be shattered by the blast, And to hear the rattling trumpet Thunder,
Page 122 - And everybody praised the Duke Who this great fight did win.' 'But what good came of it at last?' Quoth little Peterkin: — 'Why, that I cannot tell,' said he, 'But 'twas a famous victory.
Page 27 - Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.
Page 140 - But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
Page 186 - 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.

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