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" Though the flinty slopes be hard, Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew; Every evening from thy feet Shall the cool wind kiss the heat. All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of... "
Analytical [-sixth] Reader - Sivu 65
tekijä(t) Richard Edwards, John Russell Webb - 1868
Koko teos - Tietoja tästä kirjasta

The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song

Charlotte Fiske Bates - 1832 - 1022 sivua
...noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire. I was monarch : pomp and joy Waited on the barefoot boy. Cheerily, then, my little man. Live and laugh, as boyhood can! Though the flinty slopes be hard. Stubble - speared the new -mown sward, Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew;...

Hymns for Mothers and Children, Nide 1

1861 - 316 sivua
...walks, Pace to face with her he talks, Part and parcel of her joy — Blessings on the barefoot boy! Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as...the heat : All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride, Lose the freedom of the sod, Like a colt's for work be shod. Happy if their...

The Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier, Nide 2

John Greenleaf Whittier - 1861 - 340 sivua
...noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire. I was monarch : pomp and joy Waited on the barefoot boy ! Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as...the heat : All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride, Loose the freedom of the sod. Like a colt's for work be shod, Made to tread...

Hymns for Mothers and Children, Nide 1

1861 - 320 sivua
...walks, Face to face with her he talks, Part and parcel of her joy — Blessings on the barefoot boy ! Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as...the heat : All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride, Lose the freedom of the sod, Like a colt's for work be shod. . Happy if their...

Folk Songs

John Williamson Palmer - 1861 - 540 sivua
...noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire. I was monarch ; pomp and joy Waited on the barefoot boy ! Cheerily, then, my little man ! Live and laugh as...slopes be hard, Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, Eveiy morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew ; Every evening from thy feet Shall the...

The Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier ...

John Greenleaf Whittier - 1867 - 432 sivua
...noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire. I was monarch : pomp and joy Waited on the barefoot boy ! Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as...the heat : All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride, Loose the freedom of the sod, Like a colt's for work be shod, Made to tread...

Mosaics of Human Life

Elizabeth A. Thurston - 1866 - 320 sivua
...noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire. I was monarch; pomp and joy Waited on the barefoot boy ! Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as...the heat; All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride, Loose the freedom of the sod, Like a colt's for work be shod, Made to tread...

The Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier: Complete in Two Volumes, Nide 2

John Greenleaf Whittier - 1868 - 430 sivua
...noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire. I was monarch : pomp and joy Waited on the barefoot boy ! Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as...the heat : All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride, Loose the freedom of the sod, Like a colt's for work be shod, Made to tread...

Chimes for Childhood: A Collection of Songs for Little Ones

1868 - 220 sivua
...slopes be hard, Stubble-speared the new mown sward, Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptism of the dew ; Every evening, from thy feet, Shall the...the heat: All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride, Lose the freedom of the sod — Like a colt's, for work be shod. Happy if their...

The Little Pilgrim, Niteet 1–3

1853 - 322 sivua
...noisy quire Lit the fly his lamp of fire. I was monarch : pomp and joy Waited on the harefoot boy ! Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as boyhood can. Though the flinty slopes be hard, Slubble-speared the new-mown sward, Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh haptisms of the dew ;...




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