Our feathered families

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1879 - 301 стор.
 

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Сторінка 23 - Lord, what music hast thou provided for the Saints in Heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on Earth...
Сторінка 159 - To the last point of vision, and beyond, Mount, daring warbler ! — that love-prompted strain, 'Twixt thee and thine' a never-failing bond, Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain ; Yet mightst thou seem, proud privilege ! to sing All independent of the leafy spring.
Сторінка 159 - ETHEREAL minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound ? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music still!
Сторінка 159 - In the silence of morning the song of the Bird. 'Tis a note of enchantment ; what ails her ? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees ; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, Down which she so often has tripped with her pail ; And a single small Cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.
Сторінка 159 - Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home...
Сторінка 78 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats; then brisk alights On the warm hearth; then hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is Till, more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
Сторінка 8 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ! thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair: thyself how wondrous then, Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Сторінка 159 - Leave to the nightingale the shady wood — A privacy of glorious light is thine, Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with rapture more divine. Type of the wise, who soar — but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
Сторінка 16 - Lo, the poor Indian, whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, and hears Him in the wind...
Сторінка 160 - 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; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

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