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" Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and combs its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight,... "
The Republic of Letters: A Weekly Republication of Standard Literature - Сторінка 37
1835
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The Prose Works of Charles Lamb ...: Elia. First series

Charles Lamb - 1836
...; Annihilating all that 's made To a green thought in a green shade. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting...boughs does glide ; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and claps its silver wings ; And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes...
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The Works of Charles Lamb: To which are Prefixed, His Letters, and a ..., Том 2

Charles Lamb, Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd - 1838 - 476 стор.
...made To a green thought in a green shade. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul...boughs does glide ; There, like a bird, it sits and sings. Then wets and claps its silver wings ; And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes...
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The essays of Elia, Томи 1 – 2

Charles Lamb - 1840
...; Aunihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting...boughs does glide ; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then wets and claps its silver wings. And, till prepared for longer night, Waves in its plumes...
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The Essays of Elia: First Series - Second Series

Charles Lamb - 1845
...; Annihilating all that' s made To a green thought in a green shade. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting...boughs does glide ; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then wets and claps its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes...
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The poets of Yorkshire, commenced by W.C. Newsam; complete and publ. by J ...

William Cartwright Newsam - 1845
...; Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade. There at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting...boughs does glide ; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and claps its silver whigs, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes...
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The Works of Charles Lamb, Том 3

Charles Lamb - 1850
...; Annihilating all that *8 made To a green thought in a green shade. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting...boughs does glide ; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then wets and chips its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes...
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OLD PORTRAITS

JOHN G WHITTIER - 1850
...Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass. " Here at this fountain's sliding foot, Or at the fruit tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul...the boughs does glide. There like a bird it sits and sings, And whets and claps its silver wings ; And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes...
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Old Portraits and Modern Sketches

John Greenleaf Whittier - 1850 - 304 стор.
...Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass. " Here at this fountain's sliding foot, Or at the fruit tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul...the boughs does glide. There like a bird it sits and sings, And whets and claps its silver wings ; And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes...
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Cyclopaedia of English Literature: A Selection of the Choicest ..., Том 1

Robert Chambers - 1850
...abade. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's rest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide ; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and claps its silver wings, And, till prepar'd for longer flight, Wares in its plumes...
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Recollections of a Literary Life: Or, Books, Places and People

Mary Russell Mitford - 1852 - 558 стор.
...seas; Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul iflto the boughs does glide: There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and claps its silver...
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