The Royal Readers, Edição 3

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Página 103 - OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray : And, when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see at break of day The solitary child. No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wide moor, — The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door ! You yet may spy the fawn at play, The hare upon the green; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. 'To-night will be a stormy night — You to the town must go; And take a lantern, Child, to light Your mother through the snow.
Página 48 - My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem ; And there upon the ground I sit — I sit and sing to them. And often after sunset, Sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there. The first that died was little Jane ; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain; And then she went away.
Página 48 - Seven boys and girls are we; two of us in the churchyard lie/ beneath the churchyard tree." "You run about/ my little maid/ your limbs they are alive ; if two are in the churchyard laid/ then ye are only five." " Their graves are green/ they may be seen/" the little maid replied/ "twelve steps or more from my mother's door/ and they are side by side.
Página 104 - ... night — You to the town must go ; And take a lantern, Child, to light Your mother through the snow." " That, Father! will I gladly do: Tis scarcely afternoon — The minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the moon!
Página 83 - And has he left his birds and flowers; And must I call in vain? And through the long, long summer hours, Will he not come again? " And by the brook and in the glade Are all our wanderings o'er? Oh ! while my brother with me play'd, Would I had loved him more !
Página 53 - WILL you walk into my parlour ? " said the Spider to the Fly, " Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy ; The way into my parlour is up a winding stair, And I have many curious things to show when you are there."
Página 54 - Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing ; Your robes are green and purple, there's a crest upon your head ; Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!
Página 69 - At last by starvation and famine made bold, All dripping with wet and all trembling with cold, Away he set off to a miserly ant, To see if, to keep him alive, he would grant Him shelter from rain...
Página 128 - ONE morning ¡raw it was and wet — A foggy day in winter time) A Woman on the road I met, Not old, though something past her prime : Majestic in her person, tall and straight ; And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait.
Página 10 - I have no pain, dear mother, now ; But oh ! I am so dry ! Just moisten poor Jim's lips again — And, mother, don't you cry...

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