Fresh Flowers for ChildrenJ. Munroe, 1852 - 176 pages |
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Page vii
... TREES • A TALK AMONG THE FLOWERS To HELEN JOSEPHINE TO ARIANA HEAVEN CHILDREN IN HEAVEN A JOURNAL IN RHYME NED . A SKETCH TO JIP TO FRANK ( 7. ) THE ABSENT CHILDREN 122 125 127 130 132 133 138 140 142 • 144 146 157 159 162 164 viii ...
... TREES • A TALK AMONG THE FLOWERS To HELEN JOSEPHINE TO ARIANA HEAVEN CHILDREN IN HEAVEN A JOURNAL IN RHYME NED . A SKETCH TO JIP TO FRANK ( 7. ) THE ABSENT CHILDREN 122 125 127 130 132 133 138 140 142 • 144 146 157 159 162 164 viii ...
Page 10
... trees , Hiding the moon and the stars in our flight , And gathering and blackening throughout the night . Then the wind , like a banner , our cloud unfurled , And we came down in rain - drops upon the world . I sunk in the earth , to ...
... trees , Hiding the moon and the stars in our flight , And gathering and blackening throughout the night . Then the wind , like a banner , our cloud unfurled , And we came down in rain - drops upon the world . I sunk in the earth , to ...
Page 11
... trees bent over us in their delight . Sweet was the music we gave to them all , As we glided o'er pebbles and rocks in our fall . And thus we rejoiced , till we came to a river ; Then parted in sadness , alas ! and forever . Still ...
... trees bent over us in their delight . Sweet was the music we gave to them all , As we glided o'er pebbles and rocks in our fall . And thus we rejoiced , till we came to a river ; Then parted in sadness , alas ! and forever . Still ...
Page 12
... trees and flowers . The moon poured upon us her light from afar , And how happy I was to reflect a bright star . And thus in our majesty , onward we rolled , Till we came to the ocean , so grand and so bold . I was only a drop , but I ...
... trees and flowers . The moon poured upon us her light from afar , And how happy I was to reflect a bright star . And thus in our majesty , onward we rolled , Till we came to the ocean , so grand and so bold . I was only a drop , but I ...
Page 17
... trees ; Where the birds are singing , The sweet flowers springing , And the sun is bright , As if shade nor blight Could in coldness come To their blessed home . But my father says , That the river's ways Will be filled with frost , And ...
... trees ; Where the birds are singing , The sweet flowers springing , And the sun is bright , As if shade nor blight Could in coldness come To their blessed home . But my father says , That the river's ways Will be filled with frost , And ...
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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.