Children's Flowers; the Friends of Their Rambles and Play

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Religious Tract Society, 1882 - 192 pages
 

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Page 76 - I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o
Page 177 - Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere; All round the open door, Where sit the aged poor; Here where the children play, In the bright and merry May, I come creeping, creeping everywhere.
Page 108 - I sit, And glow like it; Lord, I confess too, when I dine, The pulse is thine, And all those other bits that be There placed by thee ; The worts, the purslain, and the mess Of water-cress...
Page 77 - A branch of May we have brought you, And at your door it stands, It is but a sprout, but it's well budded out By the work of our Lord's hands.
Page 77 - With his heavenly dew so sweet. The heavenly gates are open wide, Our paths are beaten plain. And if a man be not too far gone, He may return again. The life of man is but a span, It flourishes like a flower, We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow, And we are dead in an hour.
Page 177 - HERE I come creeping, creeping everywhere; By the dusty roadside, On the sunny hillside, Close by the noisy brook, In every shady nook, I come creeping, creeping everywhere.
Page 176 - Silently creeping, creeping everywhere : Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere You cannot see me coming, Nor hear my low sweet humming; For in the starry night, And the glad morning light, I come quietly creeping everywhere. Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere; More welcome than the flowers In summer's pleasant hours ; The gentle cow is glad, And the merry bird not sad, To see me creeping, creeping everywhere.
Page 50 - The little birds they spring along, And look so glad and gay ; I love to hear their pleasant song, I feel as glad as they. The young lambs bleat and frisk about, The bees hum round their hive ; The butterflies are coming out...
Page 85 - THY fruit full well the schoolboy knows, Wild bramble of the brake! So, put thou forth thy small white rose; I love it for his sake. Though woodbines flaunt and roses glow O'er all the fragrant bowers, Thou need'st not be ashamed to show Thy satin-threaded flowers...
Page 77 - We have been rambling all this night And almost all this day, And now returned back again We have brought you a branch of may.

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