The forget me not: a selection of simple songs1853 - 118 pages |
From inside the book
Page 102
... Laughing and looking back and flying still , Her ivory tooth imprinted on his finger . But now , alas ! she was not to be found ; Nor from that hour could anything be guess'd But that she was not ! Weary of his life , Francesco flew to ...
... Laughing and looking back and flying still , Her ivory tooth imprinted on his finger . But now , alas ! she was not to be found ; Nor from that hour could anything be guess'd But that she was not ! Weary of his life , Francesco flew to ...
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Common terms and phrases
Amiction angel art thou Assyrian beams beautiful Beneath bird bless bliss breast breath breeze bright Buttercups and Daisies calm child church-yard clouds communion dear Home death delight dost thou doth dream dwell earth English Peasant ev'ning bells feel flower Francesco Doria gentle glory grace green happy hath heart heaven hope land leaves light lonely mar delights miss thee moonlight play mountain nature's ne'er never night o'er pale Pale flowers pensive perfect law pleasant pleasure porringer PRISONER OF CHILLON random seed roam roses round shade shed sigh silent sing skies slave sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit spring star stream summer sunny hours sweet tears tell There's There's a home thine things Thou hast thou not love thought thunderstrike toil trees Twas twill walnut shade waves weep wild wings world is fair youth
Popular passages
Page 12 - SHE was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight ; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament ; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair ; Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair ; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn ; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
Page 34 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
Page 21 - Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.
Page 8 - FRIEND after friend departs, Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end; Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying none were blest.
Page 29 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play; Time writes no wrinkle on thy azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Page 31 - A small green isle, it seem'd no more, Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, But in it there were three tall trees, And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, And by it there were waters flowing, And on it there were young flowers growing Of gentle breath and hue.
Page 31 - As then to me he seem'd to fly; And then new tears came in my eye, And I felt troubled and would fain I had not left my recent chain. And when I did descend again, The darkness of my dim abode Fell on me as a heavy load; It was as is a new-dug grave, Closing o'er one we sought to save; And yet my glance, too much opprest, Had almost need of such a rest.
Page 20 - That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad ; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; •*—Her beauty made me glad. 22 " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" " How many ? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
Page 17 - Joyous as morning Thou art laughing and scorning; Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest, And, though little troubled with sloth, Drunken Lark! thou would'st be loth To be such a traveller as I. Happy, happy Liver, With a soul as strong as a mountain river Pouring out praise to the Almighty Giver, Joy and jollity be with us both!
Page 42 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.