The spirit of the woods, by the author of 'The moral of flowers'.1837 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 24.
Pàgina vi
... calling shapes , " 66 " And airy tongues that syllable men's names . " " How beautiful is a wooded landscape ! Be the season what it may , trees always excite admir- ation . The tender green of spring , the deeper vi.
... calling shapes , " 66 " And airy tongues that syllable men's names . " " How beautiful is a wooded landscape ! Be the season what it may , trees always excite admir- ation . The tender green of spring , the deeper vi.
Pàgina 7
... seasons come or go , Thou lovest to breathe the gale of spring And bask in summer's glow , But more to feel the wintry winds Sweep by in awful mirth , For well thou know'st each blast will fix Thy roots more deep in earth . Would that ...
... seasons come or go , Thou lovest to breathe the gale of spring And bask in summer's glow , But more to feel the wintry winds Sweep by in awful mirth , For well thou know'st each blast will fix Thy roots more deep in earth . Would that ...
Pàgina 25
... to the prodigality of bloom and of sunshine which frequently characterise the autumnal months , sometimes even late in the season , as though winter were yet afar off . These diverse appearances of decay on the one hand , and 25.
... to the prodigality of bloom and of sunshine which frequently characterise the autumnal months , sometimes even late in the season , as though winter were yet afar off . These diverse appearances of decay on the one hand , and 25.
Pàgina 26
... season assumes a garb more suited to the part it has to sustain in the economy of nature : the herald of universal decay should surely come , " not trick'd and frounc'd as she is wont , " -- " But kerchief'd in a comely cloud , While ...
... season assumes a garb more suited to the part it has to sustain in the economy of nature : the herald of universal decay should surely come , " not trick'd and frounc'd as she is wont , " -- " But kerchief'd in a comely cloud , While ...
Pàgina 44
... season for devotion ; my mind is wrapt up in a kind of enthusiasm to Him who , in the pompous language of the Hebrew bard , walketh on the wings of the wind . ' ' The Scotch fir , taking all things into consideration , is esteemed the ...
... season for devotion ; my mind is wrapt up in a kind of enthusiasm to Him who , in the pompous language of the Hebrew bard , walketh on the wings of the wind . ' ' The Scotch fir , taking all things into consideration , is esteemed the ...
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Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Spirit of the Woods, by the Author of 'The Moral of Flowers' Rebecca Hey Previsualització no disponible - 2016 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
adorn alder alluded amongst ancient Arbutus autumn banyan beauty beech beneath berries birch birks of Aberfeldy bloom blossoms boughs bower branches breath bright brow cedar cherry clusters crown cultivated cypress dark doth earth Evelyn evergreens fair fair brow fancy feel flowers foliage forest fragrance fruit garden genus Gilpin gives gloom glory glow graceful green ground grove grows growth hath hawthorn hazel heart heaven height holly honour LAURUS NOBILIS leaf leaves misletoe Mount Ida mountain mountain ash myrtle native nature Norway spruce o'er olive paliurus palm peace pine plant poet pyracantha rock rose sacred says scene scenery seem'd shade Shakspeare shrubs smile soil solemn song species spell spring summer sweet sylvan tears temple thee Thomas Dick Lauder thorns thou timber tint tree vine Virgil weeping whilst wild wild cherry willow wood yield
Passatges populars
Pàgina 95 - Do not all charms fly At the mere touch of cold philosophy? There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine — Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.
Pàgina 151 - I saw them under a green mantling vine That crawls along the side of yon small hill, Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots ; Their port was more than human, as they stood : I took it for a faery vision Of some gay creatures of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play i
Pàgina 92 - Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. Some say no evil thing that walks by night. In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost, That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, No goblin or swart faery of the mine, Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
Pàgina 14 - Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings.
Pàgina 271 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old survey'd ; And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground, And sleights of art and feats of strength went round...
Pàgina 183 - The fig-tree ; not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade High over-arch'd, and echoing walks between...
Pàgina 2 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below, — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy tempests blow — When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Pàgina 121 - It seems a day (I speak of one from many singled out) One of those heavenly days that cannot die ; When, in the eagerness of boyish hope, I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung, A nutting-crook in hand ; and turned my steps...
Pàgina 173 - Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining, In Desolation unrepining, Without a hope on earth to find A mirror in an answering mind, Meek souls there are, who little dream Their daily strife an Angel's theme, Or that the rod they take so calm, Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm.
Pàgina 258 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye. ! Whose agonies are evils of a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within...