. One hundred and one famous poems, with a prose supplement. be a moments ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilights, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay. I saw her upon nearer view, A spirit, yet a woman too! Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty; A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human natures daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, l
. One hundred and one famous poems, with a prose supplement. be a moments ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilights, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay. I saw her upon nearer view, A spirit, yet a woman too! Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty; A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human natures daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye sereneThe very pulse of the machine;A being breathing thoughtful breath,A traveler between life and death;The reason firm, the temperate will,Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;A perfect woman, nobly plannedTo warn, to comfort, and command;And yet a spirit still, and brightWith something of angelic light. Page One Hundred anc Forty-four ©tte (Mim&rcft <ttt& <£)ttc ^fttnums -jiWms. The Spider and the Fly (A Fable) Mary Howitt (Bom March 12, 1/99; Died Januarx 3 ,1888) Will you walk into my parlor? said the spider to the fly;Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did way into my parlor is up a winding stair,And I have many pretty things to show when you are no, no, said the little fly, to ask me is in vain,For who goes up your winding stair can neer come downagain. Im sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high ;Will you rest upon my little bed? said the spider to the are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin,And if you like to rest awhile, Ill snugly tuck you no, no, said the little fly, for Ive often heard it said,They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed. Said the cunning spider to the flv, Dear friend, what shall I do,To prove the warm affection Ive always felt for you?I have within my pantry good store of all thats nice;Im sur
Size: 1372px × 1820px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, booksubjectenglishpoetry, bookye
