Woodland and Wild: A Selection of Descriptive PoetrySeeley, Jackson, and Halliday, 1868 - 132 pagini |
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Pagina 10
... hour . There is no time like Spring- Like Spring that passes by ; There is no life like Spring - life born to die , - Piercing the sod , Clothing the uncouth clod , Hatched in the nest , Fledged on the windy bough , Strong on the wing ...
... hour . There is no time like Spring- Like Spring that passes by ; There is no life like Spring - life born to die , - Piercing the sod , Clothing the uncouth clod , Hatched in the nest , Fledged on the windy bough , Strong on the wing ...
Pagina 13
... hours . Thrice welcome , darling of the Spring ! Even yet thou art to me No bird , but an invisible thing , A voice , a mystery ; The same whom in my schoolboy days I listened to ; that cry Which made me look a thousand ways In bush ...
... hours . Thrice welcome , darling of the Spring ! Even yet thou art to me No bird , but an invisible thing , A voice , a mystery ; The same whom in my schoolboy days I listened to ; that cry Which made me look a thousand ways In bush ...
Pagina 15
... hours , Of winters past or coming void of care , Well pleased with delights which present are , Fair seasons , budding sprays , sweet - smelling flowers ; To rocks , to springs , to rills , from leafy bowers Thou thy Creator's goodness ...
... hours , Of winters past or coming void of care , Well pleased with delights which present are , Fair seasons , budding sprays , sweet - smelling flowers ; To rocks , to springs , to rills , from leafy bowers Thou thy Creator's goodness ...
Pagina 16
... hour or half's delight , And so to bid good - night ? ' Twas pity nature brought ye forth , Merely to show your worth , And lose you quite . But you are lovely leaves , where we May read how soon things have Their end , though ne'er so ...
... hour or half's delight , And so to bid good - night ? ' Twas pity nature brought ye forth , Merely to show your worth , And lose you quite . But you are lovely leaves , where we May read how soon things have Their end , though ne'er so ...
Pagina 18
... hours do , and dry Away , Like to the summer's rain ; Or as the pearls of morning's dew , Ne'er to be found again . R. Herrick . MAY MORNING . Now the bright morning star , day's harbinger , Comes dancing from the east , and leads with ...
... hours do , and dry Away , Like to the summer's rain ; Or as the pearls of morning's dew , Ne'er to be found again . R. Herrick . MAY MORNING . Now the bright morning star , day's harbinger , Comes dancing from the east , and leads with ...
Alte ediții - Afișează-le pe toate
Woodland and Wild: A Selection of Descriptive Poetry Woodland Nu există previzualizare disponibilă - 2023 |
Woodland and Wild: A Selection of Descriptive Poetry Woodland Nu există previzualizare disponibilă - 2018 |
Woodland and Wild: A Selection of Descriptive Poetry Woodland Nu există previzualizare disponibilă - 2023 |
Termeni și expresii frecvente
A. H. Clough Autumn beauty beneath birds blast blue bough bower breast breath breeze bright brook buds busy bee calm Christina Rossetti cloud crimson skies curious pastime dead deep delight doth dream earth faint fair fall feet flowers forest fresh gale gentle glad gleam glen glowworm golden grass green grove happy hath hear heard heart heaven hills Isa Craig lazy Kate leaf leaves light LIME BLOSSOMS lonely loud March month moon morning mountain murmuring nest night nook o'er ocean pale pinx rain rills rise river Rosa Bonheur rose round S. T. Coleridge shade shine side silent sing skies sleep smile snow soft song spring stars stream summer sweet swelling thee ther things thou art thou busy thought thunder tree vale voice vrom wake waves wild wind wings winter woods Wordsworth yarms yellow
Pasaje populare
Pagina 25 - Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: Like a glowworm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view...
Pagina 93 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Pagina 93 - 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 And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue...
Pagina 26 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields, or waves, or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? With thy clear, keen joyance Languor cannot be : Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Pagina 114 - The melancholy days are come, The saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, And meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, The autumn leaves lie dead ; They rustle to the eddying gust, And to the rabbit's tread. The robin and the wren are flown, And from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow, Through all the gloomy day.
Pagina 24 - HAIL to thee, blithe spirit ! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire...
Pagina 37 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still The pensive Pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car. Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene; Or find some ruin midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams.
Pagina 17 - I gazed— and gazed— but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
Pagina 30 - Here are sweet peas, on tip-toe for a flight : With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
Pagina 13 - To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen. And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again.