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- Author: Laura E Richards
- Publisher: Kessinger Publishing
- ISBN-10: 1162721227
- ISBN-13: 9781162721224
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.5 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English
- SAVE -10% with code: EXTRA
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Description
1894. Prolific writer of children's books, Richards is credited with pioneering American writing of nonsense verses for children, but she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for a biography of her mother, Julia Ward Howe, the social reformer who wrote the words to the Battle Hymn of the Republic. The book begins: Marie was tired. She had been walking nearly the whole day, and now the sun was low in the west, and long level rays of yellow light were spreading over the country, striking the windows of a farmhouse here and there into sudden flame, or resting more softly on treetops and hanging slopes. They were like fiddle-bows, Marie thought; and at the thought she held closer something that she carried in her arms, and murmured over it a little, as a mother coos over her baby. It seemed a long time since she had run away from the troupe: she would forget all about them soon, she thought, and their ugly faces. See other titles by this author available from Kessinger Publishing.
EXTRA 10 % discount with code: EXTRA
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- Author: Laura E Richards
- Publisher: Kessinger Publishing
- ISBN-10: 1162721227
- ISBN-13: 9781162721224
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.5 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English English
1894. Prolific writer of children's books, Richards is credited with pioneering American writing of nonsense verses for children, but she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for a biography of her mother, Julia Ward Howe, the social reformer who wrote the words to the Battle Hymn of the Republic. The book begins: Marie was tired. She had been walking nearly the whole day, and now the sun was low in the west, and long level rays of yellow light were spreading over the country, striking the windows of a farmhouse here and there into sudden flame, or resting more softly on treetops and hanging slopes. They were like fiddle-bows, Marie thought; and at the thought she held closer something that she carried in her arms, and murmured over it a little, as a mother coos over her baby. It seemed a long time since she had run away from the troupe: she would forget all about them soon, she thought, and their ugly faces. See other titles by this author available from Kessinger Publishing.
Reviews