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American animals appear beautiful become bill bird bird's body bones brought build cage called CHAPTER close color comes creature crow cuckoo eggs entire exceptional eyes fact feathers feet fellow fish flowers flying give ground habits hand head hence herons inches insects instance interesting keep kind known leaves less light lines living look male matter mean migration mind Nature nest never night notes observed once oriole pair perhaps plumage poor pretty prey reason Redbreast respect robin seemed seen side singing snow snow-bird sometimes song soon species spring structure summer swallow tail taken thing took tree tribe true usually watch whole wings winter wood woodpecker young
Сторінка 60 - Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap ; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them : how much more are ye better than the fowls?
Сторінка 88 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...
Сторінка 397 - The robin and the bluebird, piping loud, Filled all the blossoming orchards with their glee; The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be; And hungry crows, assembled in a crowd, Clamored their piteous prayer incessantly, Knowing who hears the ravens cry, and said: 'Give us, O Lord, this day, our daily bread!
Сторінка 79 - I," said the Sparrow, "With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin." Who saw him die? "I," said the Fly, "With my little eye, I saw him die.
Сторінка 52 - Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!
Сторінка 155 - Oh, blithe newcomer; I have heard, — I hear thee and rejoice. Oh, cuckoo, shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice?
Сторінка 89 - Here scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ; The red-breast loves to build and warble here, And little footsteps lightly print the ground ". As fine a stanza as any in his elegy.
Сторінка 57 - Tis winter, yet there is no sound Along the air, Of winds upon their battle-ground, But gently there, The snow is falling, — all around How fair — how fair ! The jocund fields would masquerade; Fantastic scene ! Tree, shrub, and lawn, and lonely glade Have cast their green.
Сторінка 165 - The saw was applied to the butt, the wedges were inserted into the opening, the woods echoed to the heavy blows of the beetle or mallet, the tree nodded to its fall ; but still the dam sat on. At last, when it gave way, the bird was flung from her nest ; and, though her parental affection deserved a better fate, was whipped down by the twigs, which brought her dead to the ground?
Сторінка 57 - The jocund fields would masquerade ; Fantastic scene ! Tree, shrub, and lawn, and lonely glade Have cast their green, And joined the revel, all arrayed So white and clean. E'en the old posts, that hold the bars And the old gate, Forgetful of their wintry wars And age sedate, High capped, and plumed, like white hussars Stand there in state.