The Hyacinth, Or, Affection's GiftHenry F. Anners, 1845 |
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Alice Anwell asked beautiful birds blind girl Botanic Garden bread bright Chatterbox child confectioner cottage dame dear Marie dear mother delighted door dress Elliot exclaimed eyes Fanny father feel felt footman France Freelove fruit fruit-woman gentleman give godfather hand happy HARVARD COLLEGE hear heard hungry hurdy-gurdy Jane and Susan John Barton kind knew lady little dog little friend little girl little John little Julie little Savoyard little stranger live looked Lucy Madame Rivage Madelon magpie mamma Manon marmot Mary Browne Miss Eltham Monsieur Dumenil morning never night nutmeg papa Paris pastry pastrycook poor little poor Seppi Pophams pray pretty replied returned seemed sister soon stopped sure sweet talking tears tell thing thought tippet told took turned voice walk West Indies whilst wish woman words young
Popular passages
Page 124 - I feel him warm, but how can he Or make it day or night ? My day or night myself I make Whene'er I sleep or play ; And could I ever keep awake With me 'twere always day. With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe ; But sure with patience I can bear A loss I ne'er can know. Then let not what...
Page 69 - Glides through the pathways ; she knows all their notes, That gentle Maid ! and oft, a moment's space, What time the moon was lost behind a cloud, Hath heard a pause of silence...
Page 73 - This instinct, which gives him his appointed seasons, and which teaches him always when and where to move, may be regarded as flowing from a Divine source, and he belongs to the oracles of nature, which speak the awful and. intelligible language of a present Deity.
Page 124 - twere always day. With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe ; But sure with patience I can bear A loss I ne'er can know. Then let not what I cannot have My cheer of mind destroy : Whilst thus I sing, I am a king, Although a poor blind boy.
Page 122 - My Mother. Who ran to help me when I fell, And would some pretty story tell, Or kiss the place to make it well? My Mother.
Page 121 - MY MOTHER. WHO fed me from her gentle breast, And hush'd me in her arms to rest, And on my cheek sweet kisses prest? My Mother.
Page 122 - My healthy arm shall be thy stay, And I will soothe thy pains away, My mother. And when I see thee hang thy head, 'Twill be my turn to watch thy bed, And tears of sweet affection shed, My mother.
Page 121 - When sleeping on my cradle bed, And tears of sweet affection shed? My mother. When pain and sickness made me cry, Who gazed upon my heavy eye, And wept for fear that I should die?
Page 68 - You may perchance behold them on the twigs, Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full, Glistening, while many a glow-worm in the shade Lights up her love-torch.
Page 73 - The ephemera are saved by his means from a slow and lingering death in the evening, and killed in a moment, when they have known nothing of life but pleasure. He is the constant destroyer of insects, — the friend of man ; and with the stork and the ibis, may be regarded as a sacred bird. The instinct, which gives him his appointed seasons, and which teaches him always when and where to move, may be regarded as flowing from a Divine source...