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Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
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Happy Days for Boys and Girls
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With such a cry as the boys long remembered, the visitor had plunged into the water, and had caught the boy, who had risen for the last time, by the arm.
And the next thing that the boys knew was that a white, dripping form was carried through the playground into the house.
Then a whisper went round, “It was his father.”
Then a whispered question, “Is he dead?”
And Thompson shuddered as he heard it.
But Reginald did not die; he opened his eyes to find his father clasping his hand. At first he could remember nothing, then he looked round anxiously: “Is the knife safe? I went to pick up my knife.”
Then he closed his eyes and remained for a long time silent; and when he spoke again, it was in the wild ravings of delirium.
The shock had been too much for the delicate boy. Fever came on, and it was weeks before he could be moved home. And then he was ordered to the South, and Italy was the chosen place in which Mr. and Mrs. Murray and their two children should sojourn until Reginald should have completely recovered his health.
And this time Rover was to go with his young master.
The day before Reginald left home a carriage drove up to the door, and Thompson stepped out of it.
He and Reginald were alone for a quarter of an hour, and they parted friends.
“I have my knife now, Thompson,” said Reginald, “and so the quarrel is over.”
And Thompson returned to Dr. Field’s a better and a wiser boy. He never bullied any one again.
CLEOPATRA
WE’VE called our young puss Cleopatra;
’Twas grandpa who named her like that.
He says it means “fond of good living” —
A queer enough name for a cat!
She leads the most lovely existence,
And one which appears to enchant;
Asleep in the sun like a snow-flake
That tries to get melted and can’t;
Or now and then languidly strolling
Through plots of the garden, to steal
On innocent grasshoppers, crunching
Her cruel and murderous meal!
Or lapping from out of her saucer —
The dainty and delicate elf! —
With appetite spoiled in the garden,
New milk that’s as white as herself.
Dear, dear! could we only change places,
This do-nothing pussy and I,
You’d think it hard work, Cleopatra,
To live, as the moments went by.
Ah! how would you relish, I wonder,
To sit in a school-room for hours?
You’d find it less pleasant, I fancy,
Than murdering bugs in the flowers.
Edgar Fawcett.
DECLAMATION
SHAKSPEARE
SHE sat in her eternal house,
The sovereign mother of mankind;
Before her was the peopled world,
The hollow night behind.
“Below my feet the thunders break,
Above my head the stars rejoice;
But man, although he babbles much,
Has never found a voice.
“Ten thousand years have come and gone,
And not an hour of any day
But he has dumbly looked to me
The things he could not say.
“It shall be so no more,” she said;
And then, revolving in her mind,
She thought, “I will create a child
Shall speak for all his kind.”
It was the spring-time of the year,
And, lo! where Avon’s waters flow,
The child, her darling, came on earth
Three hundred years ago.
There was no portent in the sky,
No cry, like Pan’s, along the seas,
Nor hovered round his baby mouth
The swarm of classic bees.
What other children were he was;
If more, ’twas not to mortal ken;
The being likest to mankind
Made him the man of men.
Before he came, his like was not,
And the next thing that the boys knew was that a white, dripping form was carried through the playground into the house.
Then a whisper went round, “It was his father.”
Then a whispered question, “Is he dead?”
And Thompson shuddered as he heard it.
But Reginald did not die; he opened his eyes to find his father clasping his hand. At first he could remember nothing, then he looked round anxiously: “Is the knife safe? I went to pick up my knife.”
Then he closed his eyes and remained for a long time silent; and when he spoke again, it was in the wild ravings of delirium.
The shock had been too much for the delicate boy. Fever came on, and it was weeks before he could be moved home. And then he was ordered to the South, and Italy was the chosen place in which Mr. and Mrs. Murray and their two children should sojourn until Reginald should have completely recovered his health.
And this time Rover was to go with his young master.
The day before Reginald left home a carriage drove up to the door, and Thompson stepped out of it.
He and Reginald were alone for a quarter of an hour, and they parted friends.
“I have my knife now, Thompson,” said Reginald, “and so the quarrel is over.”
And Thompson returned to Dr. Field’s a better and a wiser boy. He never bullied any one again.
CLEOPATRA
WE’VE called our young puss Cleopatra;
’Twas grandpa who named her like that.
He says it means “fond of good living” —
A queer enough name for a cat!
She leads the most lovely existence,
And one which appears to enchant;
Asleep in the sun like a snow-flake
That tries to get melted and can’t;
Or now and then languidly strolling
Through plots of the garden, to steal
On innocent grasshoppers, crunching
Her cruel and murderous meal!
Or lapping from out of her saucer —
The dainty and delicate elf! —
With appetite spoiled in the garden,
New milk that’s as white as herself.
Dear, dear! could we only change places,
This do-nothing pussy and I,
You’d think it hard work, Cleopatra,
To live, as the moments went by.
Ah! how would you relish, I wonder,
To sit in a school-room for hours?
You’d find it less pleasant, I fancy,
Than murdering bugs in the flowers.
Edgar Fawcett.
DECLAMATION
SHAKSPEARE
SHE sat in her eternal house,
The sovereign mother of mankind;
Before her was the peopled world,
The hollow night behind.
“Below my feet the thunders break,
Above my head the stars rejoice;
But man, although he babbles much,
Has never found a voice.
“Ten thousand years have come and gone,
And not an hour of any day
But he has dumbly looked to me
The things he could not say.
“It shall be so no more,” she said;
And then, revolving in her mind,
She thought, “I will create a child
Shall speak for all his kind.”
It was the spring-time of the year,
And, lo! where Avon’s waters flow,
The child, her darling, came on earth
Three hundred years ago.
There was no portent in the sky,
No cry, like Pan’s, along the seas,
Nor hovered round his baby mouth
The swarm of classic bees.
What other children were he was;
If more, ’twas not to mortal ken;
The being likest to mankind
Made him the man of men.
Before he came, his like was not,
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Последний отзыв
Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
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