Woodland and Wild: A Selection of Descriptive PoetrySeeley, Jackson, and Halliday, 1868 - 132 стор. |
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Сторінка 4
... hath gone ; Forgetting , in his joy's excess , His frolic puppy - days are done ! The hedgehog , from his hollow root , Sees the wood - moss clear of snow , And hunts the hedge for fallen fruit- Crab , hip , and winter - bitten sloe ...
... hath gone ; Forgetting , in his joy's excess , His frolic puppy - days are done ! The hedgehog , from his hollow root , Sees the wood - moss clear of snow , And hunts the hedge for fallen fruit- Crab , hip , and winter - bitten sloe ...
Сторінка 7
... hath clad the hill , and eke the vale , The nightingale with feathers new she sings ; The turtle to her make † hath told her tale . Summer is come , for every spray now springs . The hart hath hung his old head on the pale ; The buck in ...
... hath clad the hill , and eke the vale , The nightingale with feathers new she sings ; The turtle to her make † hath told her tale . Summer is come , for every spray now springs . The hart hath hung his old head on the pale ; The buck in ...
Сторінка 8
... hath lost Her snow - white robes , and now no more the frost Candies the grass , or casts an icy cream Upon the silver lake , or crystal stream : But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth And makes it tender , gives a sacred birth To ...
... hath lost Her snow - white robes , and now no more the frost Candies the grass , or casts an icy cream Upon the silver lake , or crystal stream : But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth And makes it tender , gives a sacred birth To ...
Сторінка 19
... hath been building up the rhyme When he had better far have stretched his limbs Beside a brook in mossy forest - dell , By sun or moonlight , to the influxes Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements Surrendering his whole spirit , of ...
... hath been building up the rhyme When he had better far have stretched his limbs Beside a brook in mossy forest - dell , By sun or moonlight , to the influxes Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements Surrendering his whole spirit , of ...
Сторінка 21
... Hath heard a pause of silence ; till the moon Emerging , hath awakened earth and sky With one sensation , and these wakeful birds Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy , As if some sudden gale had swept at once A hundred airy harps ...
... Hath heard a pause of silence ; till the moon Emerging , hath awakened earth and sky With one sensation , and these wakeful birds Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy , As if some sudden gale had swept at once A hundred airy harps ...
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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
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Сторінка 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...
Сторінка 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.
Сторінка 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...
Сторінка 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.
Сторінка 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.
Сторінка 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...
Сторінка 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.
Сторінка 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.
Сторінка 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.
Сторінка 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.