chide be dewed' em balmed' be tide' lin' gered wor' shiped
I love it, I love it; and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair? I've treasured it long as a sainted prize; I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs. 'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart; Not a tie will break, not a link will start. Would ye learn the spell?--a mother sat there! And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.
In Childhood's hour I lingered near The hallowed seat with listening ear; And gentle words that mother would give, To fit me to die, and teach me to live. She told me that shame would never betide, With truth for my creed and God for my guide; She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer, As I knelt beside that old Arm-chair.
I sat and watched her many a day, When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray; And I almost worshiped her when she smiled, And turned from her Bible to bless her child. Years rolled on; but the last one sped-- My idol was shattered; my earth-star fled: I learned how much the heart can bear, When I saw her die in that old Arm-chair.
'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now With quivering breath and throbbing brow: 'Twas there she nursed me; 'twas there she died; And Memory flows with lava tide. Say it is folly, and deem me weak, While the scalding drops start down my cheek; But I love it, I love it; and cannot tear My soul from a mother's old Arm-chair.
SPELL, a verse or phrase or word supposed to have magical power; a charm.
HOLLOWED, made a hole out of; made hollow. Use these two words in sentences of your own.
What is meant by "Memory flows with lava tide?"
Write a two-paragraph description of an old arm-chair. Your imagination will furnish you with all needed details.
Divide the following words into their syllables, and mark the accented syllable of each:
absurd, every, nature, mature, leisure, valuable, safety, again, virtue, ancient, weather, history, poetry, mother, genuine, earliest, fatigued, business.
crags break tongue thoughts ha' ven sail' or state' ly
Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.
O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay!