What the anvil? Politicians frequently use anaphora as a rhetorical device, in their addresses and political speeches, to evoke passion among the audience. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills.
We shall never surrender. The repetitive structures in the above passage suggest the importance of the war for England. Moreover, it inspires patriotic sentiments among the masses. The whole speech is full of the anaphoric example.
Well penned and well enjoyed. Add to list. Gone From My Sight I am standing upon the seashore. Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone.
Her diminished size is in me -- not in her. Learn commenting. Wayne Gunn - A lovely write, a friend sent it to me after my dear wife died from cancer.
It is so thoughtful! Linda Marshall - I have never heard of this poet but I have to say if this is typical of his work then it's very good. Quite experimental for the time he flourished too! Marietta Keenan - Reminds me of my husband who loved to sail. Okcorroon - I can finally let her go.
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Love this poem. The Deliverer! They could scarcely comprehend. Good news! Great joy! In the town of David, the Son of David is born this night. The shining man, glowing with the very Shekinah glory of God, had declared it. It must be so! Now the shining angel drew himself to full height, and as he opened out his arms, the radiance and glory upon him began to spread until it covered rank after rank of angels, the heavenly host, the army of God himself — more and more, company after company, battalion after battalion, began to fill the sky.
And now they began to chant, to shout in unison.
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The sound bounced off the hills and echoed from the valleys, like the rumble of thunder, like the roar of a great waterfall, the shout of triumph reverberated. The shout of worship, the shout of honor, the shout of glorious praise. And on earth Shalom — peace — to those whom God has favored. The brilliant light, too, was fading, like the final streaks of sunlight dipping below the horizon and painting the clouds red and pink in departing splendor. We have witnessed what the prophets only dreamed of.
You heard the angel. The angel told us how — a baby, wrapped in the swaddling bands of a newborn, lying in a manger…. You could find dozens of cattle troughs if you searched all the outlying farms, but a manger with a newborn lying in it — that was the sign! The old man careened down the hillside at a pace that left the younger shepherds breathless.
He was ahead of them now, almost running to the cave behind the inn. When they finally caught up, the old man was standing at the doorway to the cave, tears running down his cheeks. The Deliverer has come. The shepherds moved inside and knelt at the manger, peering at the sleeping baby boy, all tightly wrapped in swaddling bands.
Then Elias addressed her. Then the old man was silent.
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He just knelt there for a few more moments. Our prayers are with you. He motioned his compatriots towards the door, and they got up, leaving the cave and its manger and its Christ-Child. Nor were the shepherds silent about what they had seen. They spread the good news far and wide. Then they went back to their flocks, and carefully tended lambs that were destined for sacrifice on Passover.
And though they could not know or understand it, the baby Deliverer in the manger would not challenge the Roman oppressors, but instead deliver us from the sin and death that oppress us all. Still looking for Christmas readings for church? Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, on the night before Christmas, a little child was wandering all alone through the streets of a great city. There were many people on the street, fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, uncles and aunts, and even gray-haired grandfathers and grandmothers, all of whom were hurrying home with bundles of presents for each other and for their little ones.
Fine carriages rolled by, express wagons rattled past, even old carts were pressed into service, and all things seemed in a hurry and glad with expectation of the coming Christmas morning. From some of the windows bright lights were already beginning to stream until it was almost as bright as day.
But the little child seemed to have no home, and wandered about listlessly from street to street. No one took any notice of him except perhaps Jack Frost, who bit his bare toes and made the ends of his fingers tingle. The north wind, too, seemed to notice the child, for it blew against him and pierced his ragged garments through and through, causing him to shiver with cold.
Home after home he passed, looking with longing eyes through the windows, in upon the glad, happy children, most of whom were helping to trim the Christmas trees for the coming morrow. Through the windows, he could see a tall and stately Christmas tree already lighted. Many presents hung upon it. Its green boughs were trimmed with gold and silver ornaments. Slowly he climbed up the broad steps and gently rapped at the door. It was opened by a large man-servant. He had a kindly face, although his voice was deep and gruff.
There is no room here for such as you. He looked sorry as he spoke; possibly he remembered his own little ones at home, and was glad that they were not out in this cold and bitter night. Through the open door a bright light shone, and the warm air, filled with fragrance of the Christmas pine, rushed out from the inner room and greeted the little wanderer with a kiss. As the child turned back into the cold and darkness, he wondered why the footman had spoken thus, for surely, thought he, those little children would love to have another companion join them in their joyous Christmas festival.
But the little children inside did not even know that he had knocked at the door. The street grew colder and darker as the child passed on. Farther and farther down the street he wandered, to where the homes were not so large and beautiful. There seemed to be little children inside of nearly all the houses. They were dancing and frolicking about. Christmas trees could be seen in nearly every window, with beautiful dolls and trumpets and picture-books and balls and tops and other dainty toys hung upon them. In one window the child noticed a little lamb made of soft white wool.
Around its neck was tied a red ribbon. It had evidently been hung on the tree for one of the children. The little stranger stopped before this window and looked long and earnestly at the beautiful things inside, but most of all was he drawn toward the white lamb.
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A little girl came to the window and looked out into the dark street where the snow had now begun to fall. We are too busy to take care of you now. Back into the dark, cold streets he turned again. Again and again the little child rapped softly at door or window-pane.
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