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Сторінка 40 - There is a Power whose care teaches thy way along that pathless coast, the desert and illimitable air — lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, at that far height, the cold thin atmosphere, yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, though the dark night is near.
Сторінка 65 - Hours, Fair Venus' train, appear, Disclose the long-expecting flowers And wake the purple year ! The Attic warbler pours her throat Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of Spring : While, whispering pleasure as they fly, Cool Zephyrs thro" the clear blue sky Their gather'd fragrance fling.
Сторінка 65 - Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch A broader, browner shade, Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech O'er-canopies the glade, Beside some water's rushy brink With, me the Muse shall sit, and think (At ease...
Сторінка 10 - Summer is coming, summer is coming. I know it, I know it, I know it. Light again, leaf again, life again, love again,
Сторінка 27 - I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.
Сторінка 27 - I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses ; I linger by my shingly bars ; I loiter round my cresses ; And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever.
Сторінка 9 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Сторінка 27 - I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers; I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers.
Сторінка 27 - I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers. I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows: I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses: I linger by my shingly bars: I loiter round my cresses: And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river. For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.