The hand-book of villa gardening: in a ser. of letters1855 |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Hand-Book of Villa Gardening: In a Ser. of Letters William Paul Previsualització no disponible - 2012 |
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Passatges populars
Pàgina 67 - There is scarcely any earthly object gives me more — I do not know if I should call it pleasure — but something which exalts me, something which enraptures me — than to walk in the sheltered side of a wood, or high plantation, in a cloudy winter-day, and hear the stormy wind howling among the trees, and raving over the plain.
Pàgina 59 - What wondrous life is this I lead ! Ripe apples drop about my head ; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine ; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach ; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Pàgina 41 - Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too. Unconscious of a less propitious clime, There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug, While the winds whistle, and the snows descend.
Pàgina 50 - All sadness but despair: now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past...
Pàgina 34 - The golden bits with flowery studs are decked, And knots of flowers the crimson reins connect. And now on earth the silver axle rings, And the shell sinks upon its slender springs ; Light from her airy seat the goddess bounds, And steps celestial press the pansied grounds.
Pàgina 72 - Oh come ! and while the rosy-footed May Steals blushing on, together let us tread The morning dews, and gather in their prime Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair, And thy loved bosom that improves their sweets.
Pàgina 9 - These are but a few of the features of park scenery; but what most delights me, is the creative talent with which the English decorate the unostentatious abodes of middle life. The rudest habitation, the most unpromising and scanty portion of land, in the hands of an Englishman of taste, becomes a little paradise.
Pàgina 53 - Twas midnight — through the lattice, wreathed With woodbine, many a perfume breathed From plants that wake when others sleep, From timid jasmine buds, that keep Their odour to themselves all day, But, when the sunlight dies away, Let the delicious secret out To every breeze that roams about...
Pàgina 86 - Here stands a warrior clad with crimson ; there sits a magistrate robed in scarlet ; and yonder struts a pretty fellow, that seems to have dipped his plumes in the rainbow, and glitters in all the gay colours of that resplendent arch.