Floricultural Cabinet and Florists' Magazine. ..., Томи 17 – 18

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Whitaker and Company, Ave Maria Lane., 1849

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Сторінка 81 - Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, All dyed with rainbow light ; All fashioned with supremest grace, Upspringing day and night ? Springing in valleys green and low, And on the mountains high, And in the silent wilderness, Where no man passes by ? Our outward life requires them not — Then wherefore had they birth ? To minister delight to man To beautify the earth. To comfort man — to whisper hope...
Сторінка 115 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...
Сторінка 92 - I know each lane, and every alley green, Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood, And every bosky bourn from side to side, My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood...
Сторінка 196 - Then," said the rose, with deepened glow, " On me another grace bestow." The spirit paused, in silent thought, — What grace was there that flower had not ? 'Twas but a moment, — o'er the rose A veil of moss the angel throws, And robed in nature's simplest weed. Could there a flower that rose exceed ? The Rose.
Сторінка 90 - Parian marble, walked in pairs, alone or in larger companies, the winged inhabitants; these from little dusky flies (for such only the naked eye would have shown them), were raised to glorious, glittering animals, stained with living purple, and with a glossy gold that would have made the labour of the loom contemptible in the comparison.
Сторінка 204 - Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, — the fairest flowers o...
Сторінка 115 - A wilderness of sweets : for nature here Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet, Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss.
Сторінка 40 - Now the glad earth her frozen zone unbinds, And o'er her bosom breathe the western winds. Already now the snow-drop dares appear, The first pale blossom of the unripened year ; As Flora's breath, by some transforming power, Had changed an icicle into a flower : Its name and hue the scentless plant retains, And winter lingers in its icy veins.
Сторінка 196 - The angel of the flowers one day Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay ; That spirit, to whose charge is given To bathe young buds in dews from heaven ; Awaking from his light repose, The angel whispered to the rose : ' O fondest object of my care, Still fairest found where all are fair, For the sweet shade thou 'st given to me, Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee.
Сторінка 278 - No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace, As I have seen in one autumnal face.

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