Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
allspice anchovy Aquarium ball beautiful beef Bertha birds black pepper body boil bone bread butter called carbonic acid celery chopped cloth clouds cloves cold colour cover disease dish drachms dress earth eggs eyes feet fire fish flour flowers forcemeat four give glass gravy hair half hand head heart heat inches keep leaves lemon light look Mary Linley meat milk minutes Miss Beverley Miss Rosa mutton never night nutmeg onions ounce parsley pawn pepper and salt pickle piece pint plants players port wine pound powder pudding puff paste quart quarter roast round saltpetre sauce season serve side skin slices spring stew stir stock gravy striker sugar surface sweet thick things thought tion vapour veal vinegar wicket wind yolk young
Seite 119 - March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, A bushel of March dust is worth a king's ransom.
Seite 237 - How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
Seite 311 - In what brown hamlet dost thou joy To tell thy tender tale ; The lowliest children of the ground, Moss.rose and violet blossom round, And lily of the vale.
Seite 173 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Seite 122 - To be happy at home is the ultimate result of all ambition, the end to which every enterprise and labour tends, and of which every desire prompts the prosecution.
Seite 92 - who was dead, and is alive again ; — who was lost,
Seite 1 - Could we with ink the ocean fill, and were the skies of parchment made, Were every stalk on earth a quill, and every man a scribe by trade, To write the love of God above, would drain the ocean dry. Nor could the scroll contain the whole, though stretched from sky to sky, O love of God, how rich and pure!
Seite 293 - Till vernal suns and vernal gales Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast. Yes, hide beneath the mouldering heap The undelighting slighted thing ; There in the cold earth buried deep In silence let it wait the Spring. Oh ! many a stormy night shall close In gloom upon the barren earth, While still, in...
Seite 211 - I was drawn along the surface of the water in a very agreeable manner. Having then engaged another boy to carry my clothes round the pond, to a place which I pointed out to him on the other side, I began to cross the pond with, my kite, which carried me quite over without the least fatigue, and with the greatest pleasure imaginable. I was only obliged occasionally to halt a little in my course, and resist its progress, when it appeared that, by following too quick, I lowered the kite too much ; by...