Sunshine in the Country: A Book of Rural PoetryRichard Griffin, 1861 - 158 стор. |
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Сторінка 3
... sings slumber down- The nightingale rewakes him , fluting sweet , When shines the lovely red Of morning through the trees . Then he admires thee in the plain , O God ! In the ascending pomp of dawning day- Thee in the glorious sun- The ...
... sings slumber down- The nightingale rewakes him , fluting sweet , When shines the lovely red Of morning through the trees . Then he admires thee in the plain , O God ! In the ascending pomp of dawning day- Thee in the glorious sun- The ...
Сторінка 5
... sings again - his notes are void of art : But simplest strains do soonest sound the deep founts of the heart . Good Lord ! it is a gracious boon for thought - crazed wight like me , To smell again these summer flowers beneath this ...
... sings again - his notes are void of art : But simplest strains do soonest sound the deep founts of the heart . Good Lord ! it is a gracious boon for thought - crazed wight like me , To smell again these summer flowers beneath this ...
Сторінка 9
... back " gold for gold . " " Hark ! hark ! the lark " sings ' mid the silvery blue , Behold her flight , proud man ! and lowly bow . She seems the first that does for pardon sue , 9 SUNSHINE IN THE COUNTRY . A SUMMER MORNING.
... back " gold for gold . " " Hark ! hark ! the lark " sings ' mid the silvery blue , Behold her flight , proud man ! and lowly bow . She seems the first that does for pardon sue , 9 SUNSHINE IN THE COUNTRY . A SUMMER MORNING.
Сторінка 15
... sing'st hymns to them ! While silent showers are falling slow , And , ' mid the general hush , A sweet air lifts the little bough , Lone whispering through the bush ! The primrose to the grave is gone ; The hawthorn flower is dead ; The ...
... sing'st hymns to them ! While silent showers are falling slow , And , ' mid the general hush , A sweet air lifts the little bough , Lone whispering through the bush ! The primrose to the grave is gone ; The hawthorn flower is dead ; The ...
Сторінка 18
... sing from many a leafy bower . And more magnificent art thou , bright Sun ! Uprising from the ocean's billowy bed : Who that has seen thee thus , as I have done , Can e'er forget the effulgent splendours spread From thy emerging ...
... sing from many a leafy bower . And more magnificent art thou , bright Sun ! Uprising from the ocean's billowy bed : Who that has seen thee thus , as I have done , Can e'er forget the effulgent splendours spread From thy emerging ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
amid bank beams beauteous beautiful beneath birds bloom blossoms blue blushing boughs bowers bramble breath breeze bright brook brow buds burning season charms clouds creeps daisies deep delight dewy doth E'en earth flocks flowering rush flowers glade gleam glittering glory glows golden grass green grove hails happy hast hath heart heaven heaven's gate hills hues insect lark lark ascends leaves light lives lonely look meadow merry morn mountain murmur N. P. WILLIS Nature's night noon o'er plain purple purple finch rill rise round rural scene shade shadows shepherd shine sight silent silver silver beech sings smile soft song sound spirit sport Spring summer sunny sweet thee thou toil trees trembling Tuning sweet universal song vale vermil voice wanders warbling wave weary whispering white-thorn wild WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WILLIAM MOTHERWELL wind wing woodland woods yellow
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 84 - The turtle to her mate 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 brake his winter coat he flings ; The fishes flete with new repaired scale.
Сторінка 36 - And see the rivers, how they run Through woods and meads, in shade and sun ! Sometimes swift, sometimes slow, Wave succeeding wave, they go, A various journey to the deep, Like human life, to endless sleep...
Сторінка 39 - She woos the tardy Spring: Till April starts, and calls around The sleeping fragrance from the ground; And lightly o'er the living scene Scatters his freshest, tenderest green. New-born flocks, in rustic dance, Frisking ply their feeble feet; Forgetful of their wintry trance The birds his presence greet: But chief, the skylark warbles high His trembling thrilling ecstasy; And, lessening from the dazzled sight, Melts into air and liquid light.
Сторінка 35 - And ancient towers crown his brow, That cast an awful look below ; Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps, And with her arms from falling keeps : So both a safety from the wind On mutual dependence find. 'Tis now the raven's bleak abode ; Tis now th...
Сторінка 88 - Th" ethereal mountain, and the distant main. But why so far excursive ? when at hand, Along these blushing borders, bright with dew, And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers, Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace ; Throws out the snow-drop and the crocus first...
Сторінка 87 - Let me live harmlessly, and near the brink Of Trent or Avon have a dwelling-place : Where I may see my quill, or cork, down sink With eager bite of Pike, or Bleak, or Dace ; And on the world and my Creator think : Whilst some men strive ill-gotten goods t" embrace t And others spend their time in base excess Of wine, or worse, in war or wantonness.
Сторінка 58 - Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature. Mighty winds, That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood Of ancient growth, make music not unlike 185 The dash of Ocean on his winding shore...
Сторінка 72 - O what a glory doth this world put on For him who, with a fervent heart, goes forth Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks On duties well performed, and days well spent ! For him the wind, ay, and the yellow leaves Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teachings, He shall so hear the solemn hymn, that Death Has lifted up for all, that he shall go To his long resting-place without a tear.
Сторінка 62 - Rural confusion ! On the grassy bank Some ruminating lie ; while others stand Half in the flood, and, often bending, sip The circling surface.
Сторінка 13 - O'er all the fragrant bowers, Thou need'st not be ashamed to show Thy satin-threaded flowers ; For dull the eye, the heart is dull That cannot feel how fair, Amid all beauty, beautiful Thy tender blossoms are...