Stories from the Poets: A Reader for the First Grade

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Morse Company, 1898 - 110 páginas

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Página 79 - Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green; We sit in the warm shade and feel right well How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing That skies are clear and grass is growing...
Página 77 - We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; Every clod feels a stir of might. An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers; The flush of life may well be seen Thrilling back over hills and valleys ; The cowslip startles in meadows green, The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace...
Página 101 - Come, children all, to bed," he cried; And ere the leaves could urge their prayer He shook his head, and far and wide, Fluttering and rustling everywhere, Down sped the leaflets through the air. I saw them ; on the ground they lay, Golden and red, a huddled swarm, Waiting till one from far away, White bed-clothes heaped upon her arm, Should come to wrap them safe and warm. The great bare Tree looked down and smiled " Good-night, dear little leaves...
Página 30 - The little brook heard it and built a roof 'Neath which he could house him, winter-proof; All night by the white stars' frosty gleams He groined his arches and matched his beams; Slender and clear were his crystal spars As the lashes of light that trim the stars: He sculptured every summer delight In his halls and chambers out of sight; Sometimes his tinkling waters slipt...
Página 24 - In rushed Piccola sweet, half wild: Never was seen such a joyful child. "See what the good saint brought!" she cried, And mother and father must peep inside. Now such a story who ever heard? There was a little shivering bird! A sparrow, that in at the window flew, Had crept into Piccola's tiny shoe! "How good poor Piccola must have been!
Página 70 - You slay them all! and wherefore? for the gain Of a scant handful more or less of wheat, Or rye, or barley, or some other grain, Scratched up at random by industrious feet, Searching for worm or weevil after rain! Or a few cherries, that are not so sweet As are the songs these uninvited guests Sing at their feast with comfortable breasts.
Página 101 - DOWN I'll tell you how the leaves came down. The great Tree to his children said: "You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown, Yes, very sleepy, little Red. It is quite time to go to bed." "Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf, "Let us a little longer stay; Dear Father Tree, behold our grief! Tis such a very pleasant day, We do not want to go away.
Página 77 - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays : Whether we look, or whether we listen. We hear life murmur or see it glisten ; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers. And...
Página 79 - How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing That skies are clear and grass is growing; The breeze comes whispering in our ear, That dandelions are blossoming near, That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, That the river is bluer than the sky, That the robin is plastering his house hard by...
Página 77 - And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace. The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt, like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives ; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings.

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