Tales of the Robin, and Other Small Birds: Selected from the British Poets, for the Instruction and Amusement of Young People

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Joseph Taylor
W. Darton, 1815 - 140 стор.
Poems about robins and other small birds, drawn from a variety of sources.
 

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Сторінка 45 - What time the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear ; Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year ? Delightful visitant ! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet From birds among the bowers. The school-boy, wandering through the wood To pull the primrose gay, Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear, And imitates thy lay.
Сторінка 12 - 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 115 - When first the soul of love is sent abroad, Warm through the vital air, and on the heart Harmonious seizes, the gay troops begin, In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing ; And try again the long-forgotten strain, At first faint- warbled.
Сторінка 116 - Superior heard, run through the sweetest length Of notes ; when listening Philomela deigns To let them joy, and purposes, in thought Elate, to make her night excel their day. The blackbird whistles from the thorny brake ; The mellow bullfinch answers from the grove ; Nor are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze Pour'd out profusely, silent. Join'd to these Innumerous songsters, in the freshening shade Of new-sprung leaves, their modulations mix Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw, 6io And each...
Сторінка 46 - Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another spring to hail. Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year ! O, could I fly, I'd fly with thee ! We'd make, with joyful wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the spring.
Сторінка 114 - Is no concern at all of his, And says — what says he ? — Caw. Thrice happy bird ! I too have seen Much of the vanities of men ; And, sick of having seen 'em, Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine, And such a head between 'em.
Сторінка 135 - Hebrides; Who can recount what transmigrations there Are annual made? what nations come and go? And how the living clouds on clouds arise? Infinite wings! till all the plume-dark air, And rude resounding shore are one wild cry.
Сторінка 46 - Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another Spring to hail. Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year! O could I fly, I'd fly with thee! We'd make, with joyful wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the Spring.
Сторінка 117 - Connubial leagues agreed, to the deep woods They haste away, all as their fancy leads, Pleasure, or food, or secret safety prompts; That Nature's great command may be obey'd; Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive Indulg'd in vain.
Сторінка 113 - He sees that this great round-about, The world, with all its motley rout, Church, army, physic, law, Its customs, and its businesses, Is no concern at all of his, And says — what says he ?—Caw.

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