Town's Spelling and Defining Book: Being an Introduction to Town's AnalysisClement & Packard, 1841 - 160 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
able adjectives adverbs ance ation Atlantic Ocean cate cation ceive cent CHARLES ANTHON cial cide cious column define dent diphthong drol ence equi fold fore fruit gate ible late lect lence less LESSON letters lous lute mean ment nate ness nif er ous Nouns ol o gy pertaining preter primitive word primitives are verbs pute ra phy ri ous rous sion suffix syllable TABLE tain tate tion tious tive Town's Spelling Book trans treach tude turb ture vate vert vowel zard
Popular passages
Page 106 - Do something — do it soon — with all thy might ; An angel's wing would droop if long at rest, And God himself, inactive, were no longer blest.
Page 105 - What is that, Mother ? The eagle, boy! Proudly careering his course of joy, Firm, on his own mountain vigour, relying, Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying, His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun, He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine, Onward, and upward, and true to the line. "What is that, Mother...
Page 59 - To do to others as I would That they should do to me, Will make me honest, kind, and good, As children ought to be.
Page 106 - Some high or humble enterprise of good Contemplate, till it shall possess thy mind, Become thy study, pastime, rest, and food, And kindle in thy heart a flame refined. Pray heaven for firmness thy whole soul to bind To...
Page 105 - What is that, Mother? What is that, Mother ? The lark, my child. — The morn has but just looked out, and smiled, When he starts from his humble, grassy nest, And is up and away with the dew on his breast, And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure, bright sphere, To warble it out in his Maker's ear. Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise. What is that, mother ? — The dove, my son.
Page 105 - What is that, mother ? — The eagle, boy, Proudly careering his course of joy, . . Firm in his own mountain vigor relying, Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying ; His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun, He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on. Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine, Onward and upward, true to the line. What is that, mother ? The swan, my love.
Page 106 - WOULDST thou from sorrow find a sweet relief? Or is thy heart oppressed with woes untold ! Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief? Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold. — 'Tis when the rose is wrapt in many a fold Close to its heart, the worm is wasting there Its life and beauty; not when, all unrolled, Leaf after leaf, its bosom, rich and fair, Breathes freely its perfumes throughout the ambient air...
Page 105 - WHAT IS THAT, MOTHER 7 1. WHAT is. that, Mother? — The lark, my child : The morn has but just looked out, and smiled, When he starts from his humble grassy nest, And is up and away with the dew on his breast, And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure, bright sphere, To warble it out in his Maker's ear. Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays, Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise. 2. What is that, Mother...
Page 106 - What is that, mother ? — The swan, my love. — He is floating down from his native grove, No loved one now, no nestling nigh ; He is floating down by himself to die ; Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings, Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings. Live so, my love, that when Death shall come, Swan-like and sweet, it may waft thee home.
Page 105 - What is that, Mother? The dove, my son ! And that low sweet voice, like a widow's moan, Is flowing out, from her gentle breast, Constant and pure, by that lonely nest, As the wave is poured from some crystal urn, For her distant dear one's quick return : Ever, my son, be thou, like the dove, In friendship as faithful, as constant in love. What is that, Mother ? The eagle, boy!