The spirit of the woods, by the author of 'The moral of flowers'.1837 |
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Seite xiii
... hill and valley , that sweet Spring has come ! Yes , Spring has come , with light and beauty crown'd ; And where her dews have fall'n on mead or bower , Or the light pressure of her foot hath been , Up starts at once a galaxy of flowers ...
... hill and valley , that sweet Spring has come ! Yes , Spring has come , with light and beauty crown'd ; And where her dews have fall'n on mead or bower , Or the light pressure of her foot hath been , Up starts at once a galaxy of flowers ...
Seite xiv
... Hill , valley , stream , each woos my roving glance , And asks the tribute of admiring song . Once more I gaze , -ah ! how could I o'erlook Yon low - roof'd cottage with its shadowing tree ? How pass unmark'd that grove , whose varied ...
... Hill , valley , stream , each woos my roving glance , And asks the tribute of admiring song . Once more I gaze , -ah ! how could I o'erlook Yon low - roof'd cottage with its shadowing tree ? How pass unmark'd that grove , whose varied ...
Seite xv
... hill and vale ye lend your grateful gloom . I love ye when with consecrated bloom The village church ye reverently embower ; Nor scarcely less when by the peasant's home , Or on the green , in single pomp ye tower , As if ye loved to ...
... hill and vale ye lend your grateful gloom . I love ye when with consecrated bloom The village church ye reverently embower ; Nor scarcely less when by the peasant's home , Or on the green , in single pomp ye tower , As if ye loved to ...
Seite 11
... hill top , but close Environ'd with a ring of branching elms , That overhang the thatch . " And once more , - " The grove receives us next , Between the upright shafts of whose tall elms We may discern the thresher at his task . " 66 ...
... hill top , but close Environ'd with a ring of branching elms , That overhang the thatch . " And once more , - " The grove receives us next , Between the upright shafts of whose tall elms We may discern the thresher at his task . " 66 ...
Seite 16
... hill , and dale , and mead , With conscious might his beamy standard flings , Ye murmuring streamlets , that were wont to make Music , how meet for summer's burning hour ! Ah ! why , perfidious , do ye now forsake Your pebbly beds ? -ye ...
... hill , and dale , and mead , With conscious might his beamy standard flings , Ye murmuring streamlets , that were wont to make Music , how meet for summer's burning hour ! Ah ! why , perfidious , do ye now forsake Your pebbly beds ? -ye ...
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The Spirit of the Woods, by the Author of 'The Moral of Flowers' Rebecca Hey Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2016 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
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
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 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.
Seite 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
Seite 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.
Seite 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.
Seite 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...
Seite 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...
Seite 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.
Seite 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...
Seite 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.
Seite 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...