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Sprednja platnica
James R. Osgood, 1872 - 107 strani
 

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Stran 9 - I do not know the use or name Of that I spin; I only know that some one came And laid within My hand the thread, and said, "Since you Are blind, but one thing you can do.
Stran 97 - SLEEP." fOVEMBER woods are bare and still ; November days are clear and bright ; Each noon burns up the morning's chill The morning's snow is gone by night ; Each day my steps grow slow, grow light, As through the woods I reverent creep, Watching all things lie
Stran 85 - ROBINS call robins in tops of trees ; Doves follow doves with scarlet feet ; Frolicking babies, sweeter than these, Crowd green corners where highways meet. Violets stir and arbutus wakes, Claytonia's rosy bells unfold; Dandelion through the meadow makes A royal road, with seals of gold.
Stran 10 - Sometimes the threads so rough and fast And tangled fly, I know wild storms are sweeping past, And fear that I Shall fall ; but dare not try to find A safer place, since I am blind.
Stran 28 - Will sing as they ; The common air has generous wings, Songs make their way. No messenger to run before, Devising plan ; No mention of the place or hour To any man ; No waiting till some sound betrays A listening ear ; No different voice, no new delays, If steps draw near. ** What bird is that ? Its song is good.
Stran 43 - MOTHER, I see you, with your nursery light, Leading your babies, all in white, To their sweet rest; Christ, the Good Shepherd, carries mine to-night, And that is best.
Stran 86 - May, sweet-voiced one, going thus before, Forever June may pour her warm red wine Of life and passion, — sweeter days are thine...
Stran 60 - CORONATION. |T the king's gate the subtle noon Wove filmy yellow nets of sun ; Into the drowsy snare too soon The guards fell one by one. Through the king's gate, unquestioned then, A beggar went, and laughed, " This brings Me chance, at last, to see if men Fare better, being kings.
Stran 103 - Close by my side the poor souls kneel ; I turn away ; Half-pitying looks at me they steal ; They think, because I do not feel, I turn away. Ah ! if they knew, How following them, where'er they go, I hear, " Forgive them, for they know Not what they do...
Stran 107 - DEAR hearts, whose love has been so sweet to know, That I am looking backward as I go, Am lingering while I haste, and in this rain Of tears of joy am mingling tears of pain; Do not adorn with costly shrub, or tree, Or flowers, the little grave that shelters me.

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