Our Country's Readers, Book 1

Front Cover
Southern Publishing Company, 1903 - Readers
 

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Page 138 - Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea — And wouldst thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties ; Oh, spare that aged oak Now towering to the skies ! When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; In all their gushing joy Here, too, my sisters played. My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my hand — Forgive...
Page 138 - Woodman, spare that tree ! Touch not a single bough ! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy ax shall harm it not.
Page 42 - Once I saw a little bird Come hop, hop, hop; So I cried, "Little bird, Will you stop, stop, stop?" And was going to the window To say, "How do you do?
Page 130 - Back of the loaf is the snowy flour, And back of the flour the mill, And back of the mill is the wheat and the shower, And the sun and the Father's will.
Page 126 - tis spring. The gay green grass comes creeping So soft beneath their feet ; The frogs begin to ripple A music clear and sweet. And buttercups are coming, And scarlet columbine ; And in the sunny meadows The dandelions shine. And just as many daisies As their soft hands can hold The little ones may gather, All fair in white and gold. Here blows the warm red clover, There peeps the violet blue ; O happy little children, God made them all for you ! Celia Thaxter.
Page 59 - TOM, Tom, the piper's son, Stole a pig, and away he run ! The pig was eat, and Tom was beat, And Tom went roaring down the street ! XXXVII.
Page 125 - Spring The alder by the river Shakes out her powdery curls ; The willow buds in silver For little boys and girls. The little birds fly over, And oh, how sweet they sing ! To tell the happy children That once again 'tis spring.
Page 110 - I have a little sister, they call her Peep, Peep; She wades the waters deep, deep, deep; She climbs the mountains high, high, high; Poor little creature, she has but one eye.
Page 139 - When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; In all their gushing joy Here, too, my sisters played. My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my hand — Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand. My heart-strings round thee cling, Close as thy bark, old friend! Here shall the wild-bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree! the storm still brave! And, woodman, leave the spot; While I've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not.
Page 128 - WHAT is pink ? a rose is pink By the fountain's brink. What is red ? a poppy's red In its barley bed. What is blue ? the sky is blue Where the clouds float thro'. What is white ? a swan is white Sailing in the light. What is yellow ? pears are yellow, Rich and ripe and mellow. What is green ? the grass is green, With small flowers between. What is violet ? clouds are violet In the summer twilight. What is orange ? why, an orange, Just an orange...

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