Fresh Flowers for ChildrenJ. Munroe, 1852 - 176 pages |
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... never a keeper of records , had a persons and local events so remarkab tion regarding the past always prompt reply . Dr. Shurtleff inexhaustible supply of old books local events , that we never remembe library without the information th ...
... never a keeper of records , had a persons and local events so remarkab tion regarding the past always prompt reply . Dr. Shurtleff inexhaustible supply of old books local events , that we never remembe library without the information th ...
Page 10
... Never once thinking of falling in rain . We were swept along by the evening breeze , That was cooling the earth and waving the trees , Hiding the moon and the stars in our flight , And gathering and blackening throughout the night ...
... Never once thinking of falling in rain . We were swept along by the evening breeze , That was cooling the earth and waving the trees , Hiding the moon and the stars in our flight , And gathering and blackening throughout the night ...
Page 13
... never be destined to fill A lowlier station in fountain or rill . But alas for my vanity ! soon did my fate Teach me , " Peace will not always be found with the great ; " Now foaming and raging and tossed o'er the main , I sighed to be ...
... never be destined to fill A lowlier station in fountain or rill . But alas for my vanity ! soon did my fate Teach me , " Peace will not always be found with the great ; " Now foaming and raging and tossed o'er the main , I sighed to be ...
Page 18
... sweet flowers , Yet fairer than ours ; And they never will fade , For there is no shade ; But all is made bright By the Fountain of Light , And there the pure River Of Life flows forever . SONG OF THE STARS . SILENT stars ! do you.
... sweet flowers , Yet fairer than ours ; And they never will fade , For there is no shade ; But all is made bright By the Fountain of Light , And there the pure River Of Life flows forever . SONG OF THE STARS . SILENT stars ! do you.
Page 22
... and seemed so glad , To see it fresh and fair . But now you cannot sing again , And never can you fly . My pretty birds ! you left your woods , And came to us to die . SONG . THE bee is buzzing round and round , SONG.
... and seemed so glad , To see it fresh and fair . But now you cannot sing again , And never can you fly . My pretty birds ! you left your woods , And came to us to die . SONG . THE bee is buzzing round and round , SONG.
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Common terms and phrases
affectionate angel Ariana Auntie beauty beneath Bessie BIRTH-DAY blessed blue blue air Bobbie charming childhood Children of God cloud dark darling dear delight DROP OF WATER earth eyes face fade fair fear floating flowers forest fountain Francis E garden gentle GEORGE AND ROVER George William Gordon glad grace grass green happiest happy hear heard heart heaven hills holy HYMN JAMES MUNROE JOURNAL IN RHYME kindly kiss kitten light little bird little child LITTLE FISHERMAN live look mamma mild morning mother never night o'er PET LAMB play pleasant pleasant home Postmaster pray prayer pretty rejoice remember rills ROBIN round shade shining sing sleep smiles snowy white SONG sound spring stars sunny sunset sunshine sweetly tell thee thine things thou art thought tones trees unto voice wild wind wing wish wonder words words of love
Popular passages
Page 174 - And they were going up to heaven, With all that had been done By little children, good or bad, Since the last rising sun. And some had gold and purple wings ; Some drooped like faded flowers, And sadly soared to tell the tale, That they were misspent Hours.
Page 175 - Others had unkind words and acts To carry upward there. A shining Hour, with golden plumes, Was laden with a deed Of generous sacrifice a child Had done for one in need. And one was bearing up a prayer A little child had said, All full of penitence and love, While kneeling by his bed.
Page 176 - And thus they glided on, and gave Their records dark and bright To Him who marks each passing hour Of childhood's day and night.
Page 58 - And when 1 sleep, then in my dreams, It sweetly comes again. It always makes me happy, Whene'er I hear its tone, I know it is the voice of love, From a heart that is my own. My Mother ! My dear Mother ! O may I never be Unkind, or disobedient, In any way, to thee.
Page 57 - MY Mother! My kind Mother! I hear thy gentle voice, It always makes my little heart Beat gladly and rejoice. When I am ill, it comes to me, And kindly soothes my pain ; And when I sleep, then in my dreams, It sweetly comes again.
Page 145 - The golden- haired— the blue-eyed, That lighted up our life, And folded were within our hearts, From all the world's rude strife — The blessings of our bosoms, The stars upon our sky, The flowers springing in our path, Too beautiful to die — They all are there— in heaven — Safe, safe, and sweetly blessed; No cloud of sin can shadow Their bright and holy rest.
Page 108 - BOY WHO TOLD A LIE. The mother looked pale, and her face was sad, She seemed to have nothing to make her glad ; She silently sat with the tears in her eye, For her dear little boy had told a lie. He was a gentle, affectionate child, His ways were winning, his temper was mild ; There was love and joy in his soft blue eye, But the dear little boy had told a lie. He stood alone by the window within, For he felt that his soul was stained...
Page 87 - CHILDHOOD OF JESUS. IN the green fields of Palestine, By its fountains and its rills, And by the sacred Jordan's stream, And o'er the vine-clad hills Once lived and roved the fairest child That ever blessed the earth ; The happiest, the holiest, That e'er had human birth. How beautiful his childhood was! Harmless and undefiled; O, dear to his young mother's heart Was this pure, sinless child!
Page 109 - And he felt that his soul was stained with sin, And his mother could hear him sob and cry, Because he had told her that wicked lie. Then he came and...
Page 44 - MAKES ME HAPPIEST? WHAT is it makes me happiest ? Is it my last new play ? Is it my bounding ball or hoop I follow every day ? Is it my puzzles, or my blocks ? My pleasant solitaire ? My dolls, my kitten, or my books ? My flowers, fresh and fair ? What is it makes me happiest ? It is not one of these ; Yet they are treasures dear to me, And never fail to please.