Pictorial Calendar of the Seasons, ...Mary Botham Howitt H. G. Bohn, 1854 - 567 pagini |
Din interiorul cărții
Pagina 366
... The poetry of earth is never dead ; When all the birds are faint with the hot sun , And hide in cooling trees , a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new - mown mead That is the grasshopper's . KEATS . THE RURAL HOME . Here ...
... The poetry of earth is never dead ; When all the birds are faint with the hot sun , And hide in cooling trees , a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new - mown mead That is the grasshopper's . KEATS . THE RURAL HOME . Here ...
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Alte ediții - Afișează-le pe toate
Pictorial Calendar of the Seasons: Exhibiting the Pleasures, Pursuits, and ... Mary Botham Howitt Vizualizare completă - 1862 |
Pictorial Calendar of the Seasons: Exhibiting the Pleasures, Pursuits, and ... Mary Botham Howitt,John Aikin Nu există previzualizare disponibilă - 2015 |
Termeni și expresii frecvente
amongst ancient animal aphides appear autumn beautiful bees begin birds blossoms blue boughs branches bright buds called Candlemas chaffinch Christmas church clouds cockchafer cold colour corn cowslip cuckoo custom dark delight Druids earth Easter egg eggs female festival fieldfare fields fire flowers forest frost garden grass green hath head hear heart heaven hedges hour insects labour lamb larvæ leaves light look marsh-marigold MARY HOWITT meadows merry Michaelmas misletoe month morning nature nest night nightingale o'er observed passing PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY plants Plough Monday poet quadrupeds queen Roman rose round Saxon says season seems seen sheep Shrove Tuesday sing skylark snow song species spring stars stream summer swallow sweet thee thou torpid trees voice walk weather whole wild WILLIAM HOWITT wind wings winter woods yellow young
Pasaje populare
Pagina 216 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Pagina 209 - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not. 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.
Pagina 209 - Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine ; I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
Pagina 147 - Thrice welcome, darling of the spring; Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing; A voice, a mystery...
Pagina 105 - ... Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee : A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company : 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...
Pagina 105 - I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
Pagina 64 - Go, from the creatures thy instructions take; learn from the birds what food the thickets yield; learn from the beasts the physic of the field; thy arts of building from the bee receive ; learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave ; learn of the little nautilus to sail, spread the thin oar and catch the driving gale.
Pagina 210 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not ; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Pagina 548 - And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Holly tree.
Pagina 90 - It is the first mild day of March : Each minute sweeter than before. The red-breast sings from the tall larch That stands beside our door. There is a blessing in the air, Which seems a sense of joy to yield To the bare trees, and mountains bare, And grass in the green field.