Youth's Speaker

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Ivison, Blakeman, Taylor, 1871 - Recitations - 181 pages
 

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Page 99 - The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
Page 75 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon...
Page 77 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Page 94 - Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend ; And entertains the harmless day With a...
Page 65 - Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring ?' Said the Piggy, 'I will.' So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
Page 98 - Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.
Page 99 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Page 59 - Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry; The distant hills are looking nigh. How restless are the snorting swine ! The busy flies disturb the kine ; Low o'er the grass the swallow wings, The cricket, too, how sharp he sings ! Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws, Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws.
Page 72 - When joy no longer soothes or cheers, And e'en the hope that threw A moment's sparkle o'er our tears Is dimmed and vanished too ; Oh ! who would bear life's stormy doom, Did not Thy wing of love Come, brightly wafting through the gloom Our peace-branch from above!' Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows bright With more than rapture's ray ; As darkness shows us worlds of light We never saw by day ! • Thomas Moore, 1779—1852.

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