A Field-full of Wonders

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Routledge, Warne&Routledge, 1863 - 152 стор.

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Сторінка 102 - 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! 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 might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to...
Сторінка 125 - I'm truly sorry man's dominion. Has broken nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An...
Сторінка 102 - 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 125 - An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green ! An' bleak December's winds ensuin', Baith snell and keen ! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary winter comin' fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, 'Till, crash ! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee bit heap o...
Сторінка 57 - So then to his palace returned he, And he sat down to supper merrily, And he slept that night like an innocent man ; But Bishop Hatto never slept again. In the morning, as he...
Сторінка 112 - Thou, in sunny solitudes, Rover of the underwoods, The green silence dost displace With thy mellow, breezy bass.
Сторінка 125 - The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain For promis'd joy. Still thou art blest compared wi' me ! The present only toucheth thee : But, och ! I backward cast my e'e On prospects drear, An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an
Сторінка 58 - Another came running presently, And he was pale as pale could be. "Fly, my lord bishop, fly!" quoth he, "Ten thousand rats are coming this way, The Lord forgive you for yesterday!" "I'll go to my tower on the Rhine...
Сторінка 92 - ART thou the Bird whom Man loves best, The pious Bird with the scarlet breast, Our little English Robin; The Bird that comes about our doors When Autumn winds are sobbing ' Art thou the Peter of Norway Boors Their Thomas in Finland, And Russia far inland?
Сторінка 116 - THE BAG OF THE BEE. About the sweet bag of a bee Two Cupids fell at odds ; And whose the pretty prize should be They vow'd to ask the Gods. Which Venus hearing, thither came, And for their boldness stript them ; And taking thence from each his flame, With rods of myrtle whipt them. Which done, to still their wanton cries, When quiet grown she'd seen them, She kiss'd and wiped their dove-like eyes And gave the bag between them.

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