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Autumn beauty bees begin beneath Bernard Barton berries birds blast blossoms blue boughs bound in cloth breath breeze bright buds catkins chaffinches charms cheerful clouds cold Coloured Plates corn Corn Law daisy delightful earth Edition Engravings farmer feeling fieldfares fields Fleet Street flocks flowers forest fresh frost fruit George Cruikshank grass green groves hath heaven hedges hues Illustrations insects labour leaf leaves Leigh Hunt lichens meadows month morning morocco morocco elegant Nature neatly bound night o'er Originally published pilewort pleasant poet POETICAL primrose Robin Hood round rural Sacred Harp SAMUEL PROUT scene Scott's season Season of mists seeds shade Shakspeare shines showers sing smiles snow soft song Spring storm Summer sunny swallow sweet tender thee Thomas Dale Thomas Hood Thomson thou thrush Tilt and Bogue trees violet vols volume warm weather wild winds Winter winter aconite woods yellow young
Seite 196 - See here thy pictur'd life ; pass some few years, Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength. Thy sober Autumn fading into age, And pale concluding Winter comes at last, And shuts the scene. Ah ! whither now are fled Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes Of happiness ? those longings after fame ? Those restless cares ' those busy bustling days ? Those gay-spent, festive nights :
Seite 161 - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay; So flourish these, when those are pass'd away.
Seite 143 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
Seite 142 - Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Seite 9 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Seite 201 - With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling year: And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks, And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves in hollow-whispering gales. Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined, And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
Seite 197 - No noise is here, or none that hinders thought. The redbreast warbles still, but is content With slender notes, and more than half...
Seite 196 - Tis done! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year. How dead the vegetable kingdom lies! How dumb the tuneful! horror wide extends .His desolate domain. Behold, fond man ! See here thy pictured life; pass some few years, Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength, Thy sober Autumn fading into age, And pale concluding Winter comes at last, And shuts the scene.
Seite 7 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats ; then brisk alights On the warm hearth ; then hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is ; Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
Seite 52 - THE stormy March is come at last, With wind, and cloud, and changing skies , I hear the rushing of the blast, That through the snowy valley flies Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild stormy month! in praise of thee : Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me. For thou, to northern lands, again The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.