Gift of Flowers: Love's Wreath for 1854Rufus Wilmot Griswold Leavitt & Allen, 1854 - 287 стор. |
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Сторінка 22
... breeze , Some lost among bowers of blossoming trees- Were all paved with daisies and delicate bells As fair as the fabulous asphodels , And flowerets which drooping as day droop'd too , Fell into pavilions white , purple , and blue , To ...
... breeze , Some lost among bowers of blossoming trees- Were all paved with daisies and delicate bells As fair as the fabulous asphodels , And flowerets which drooping as day droop'd too , Fell into pavilions white , purple , and blue , To ...
Сторінка 60
... breeze ! The Butterfly is then abroad , The bee is on the wing , And on the hawthorn by the road The linnets sit and sing . Sweet wall - flower - sweet wall - flower ! Thou conjurest up to me , Full many a soft and sunny hour Of ...
... breeze ! The Butterfly is then abroad , The bee is on the wing , And on the hawthorn by the road The linnets sit and sing . Sweet wall - flower - sweet wall - flower ! Thou conjurest up to me , Full many a soft and sunny hour Of ...
Сторінка 67
... As winter's first snow . Yesterday , on the boughs They hung scented and fair ; To - day they are scatter'd The breeze best knows where . To - morrow those leaves Will be scentless and dead THE FOETRY ( F FLOWERS . 67 The almond tree.
... As winter's first snow . Yesterday , on the boughs They hung scented and fair ; To - day they are scatter'd The breeze best knows where . To - morrow those leaves Will be scentless and dead THE FOETRY ( F FLOWERS . 67 The almond tree.
Сторінка 77
... breeze - bow'd palm , moss'd o'er with gold , Smiles o'er the well in summer cold , And dasied sod . But thou , pale blossom , thou art come , And flowers in winter blow , To tell me that the worm makes room For me , her brother , in ...
... breeze - bow'd palm , moss'd o'er with gold , Smiles o'er the well in summer cold , And dasied sod . But thou , pale blossom , thou art come , And flowers in winter blow , To tell me that the worm makes room For me , her brother , in ...
Сторінка 79
... breeze will feel And bowers , as heretofore , Beneath their load of roses reel : But I through woodbine lanes shall steal No more , no more . Well , lay me by my brother's side , Where late we stood and wept ; For I was stricken when he ...
... breeze will feel And bowers , as heretofore , Beneath their load of roses reel : But I through woodbine lanes shall steal No more , no more . Well , lay me by my brother's side , Where late we stood and wept ; For I was stricken when he ...
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Amaranth BARRY CORNWALL beauty beneath BERNARD BARTON bloom blossoms blue blush bosom boughs bowers breast breath breeze bright BROKEN FLOWER buds charms cheek child cloud cold Cowslip DAFFODILS daisy dead dear delight dost doth dreams drooping earth fair fairest Fancy crown flowerets fragrance gale garden gaze gentle flower glow golden grace green hath heart heaven hour JOHN KEATS JOHN STERLING leaf leaves life's light lily little rose lone look'd love's MELROSE ABBEY morning Narcissus nature's ne'er NOSEGAY nymph o'er odours pale pass'd perfume pride primrose purple rill round scarlet pimpernel scent sensitive plant shade shed shine showers sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit spring star stream summer sunny sweet tears tender thee thine thou art thought tomb tree twine vale vernal violet wall-flower weep wild wind wind-flower wing winter wither'd
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Сторінка 31 - And the Naiad-like lily of the vale, Whom youth makes so fair and passion so pale, That the light of its tremulous bells is seen Through their pavilions of tender green...
Сторінка 215 - You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing. We die, As your hours do, and dry Away Like to the Summer's rain ; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.
Сторінка 118 - Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale prim-roses That die unmarried ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength...
Сторінка 122 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is given.
Сторінка 156 - And noble arch in proud decay, Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers ; But one thing want these banks of Rhine, — Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine...
Сторінка 127 - Go, lovely Rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth! Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.
Сторінка 214 - Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early rising sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along.
Сторінка 231 - THERE is a flower, a little flower, With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky. The prouder beauties of the field In gay but quick succession shine, Race after race their honours yield, They flourish and decline. But this small flower, to Nature dear, While moons and stars their courses run, Wreathes the whole circle of the year, Companion of the Sun.
Сторінка 22 - Neath cloistered boughs each floral bell that swingeth And tolls its perfume on the passing air Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer : Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane most catholic and solemn Which God hath plann'd,— To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply, Its choir the winds and waves, its organ thunder, Its dome the sky.