First Grammar Lessons: Additional Exercises

Additional Exercises

Pick out Subjects, Predicates and Objects and say all you can about the words in italics.

Joan can tell by name her cows,
And deck her windows with green boughs;
She can wreaths and tutties make,
And trim with plums a bridal cake.

The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
I heard a voice; it said, “Drink, pretty creature, drink!”

Now my brothers call from the bay,
Now the great winds shoreward blow,
Now the salt tides seaward flow;
Now the wild white horses play.

The owl was awake in the white moonshine;
I saw her at rest in her downy nest,
And she stared at me with her broad, bright eye.

The storm came on before its time;
She wandered up and down;

And many a hill did Lucy climb,

But never reached the town.

Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard
To get the poor dog a bone,

But when she got there the cupboard was bare,

And so the poor dog had none.

The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you’ll find him,

His father’s sword he has girded on,

And his wild harp (he has) slung behind him.

The splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:

The long light shakes across the lakes,

And the wild cataract leaps in glory.

The way was long, the wind was cold,
The minstrel was infirm and old.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,

And the wind that sped them all night long

Ruffled the waves of dew.

The sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out;
At one stride comes the dark;

With far-heard whisper, o’er the sea

Off shot the spectre bark.

And forth three chiefs came spurring
Before that deep array;

To earth they sprang, theirs words they drew,
And lifted high their shields, and flew

To win the narrow way.

There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;

But now the sun is rising calm and bright;

The birds are singing in the distant woods.

All night long the northern streamers
Shot across the trembling sky:

Fearful lights that never beckon

Save when kings or heroes die.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden,
They often have a dance on summer nights;

The butterflies and bees make a lovely little breeze,

And the rabbits stand about and hold the lights.

Your ladies-in-waiting are gracious and fair,
And a little page stands by the side of your chair;
But an army of goblins shall do your behest,
And fly at your bidding to East and to West.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale;
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth.

And the Larch, with all its fibres,
Shivered in the air of morning,
Touched its forehead with its tassels,
Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,
Take them all, O Hiawatha!

I am busy, said the sun,
All my planets, every one,
Know my work is never done.

My golden spurs now bring to me,
And bring to me my richest mail,

For to-morrow I go overland and sea

In search of the Holy Grail.

He used to be a fairy once,
A little singing fairy;

He would not work, he would not play,
He only sat and sang all day—

So now he’s a canary.

The tall pink foxglove bowed his head,
The violet curtsied and went to bed.

O, when do fairies hide their heads
When snow lies on the hills,

When frost has spoiled their mossy beds,

And crystalised their rills?

O Columbine, open your folded wrapper,
Where two twin turtle-doves dwell!

O Cuckoo-pint, toll me the purple clapper

That hangs in your clear green bell.

He was a rat, and she was a rat,
And down in one hole they did dwell;

And both were as black as a witch’s cat,

And they loved one another well.

See, the yellow catkins cover
All the slender willows over;
And on mossy banks so green
Starlike primroses are seen.

The sheep are on the slopes around,
The cattle in the meadows feed,

And labourers turn the crumbling ground

Or drop the yellow seed.

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley or of rye
That clothe the wold and meet the sky.

He stood upon the sandy beach,
And watched the dancing foam;

He gazed upon the leaping waves

Which soon would be his home—

In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin’s breast;
In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest.

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where,
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

Last night the moon had a golden ring,
And to-night no moon we see!

The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe

And a scornful laugh laughed he.

Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode,
Proudly his red roan charger trode
His helm hung at the saddlebow.

The swallow stopped as he hunted the bee,
The snake slipped under a spray,

The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak,

And stared, with his foot on the prey.

The merry lark, he soars on high,
No worldly thought o’er takes him;

He sings aloud to the clear blue sky,

And the daylight that awakes him.