The Writings of John Burroughs: Birds and poets, with other papersHoughton, Mifflin, & Company, 1895 |
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Стр. 4
... says Cowper . " I never hear , " says Burns in one of his letters , " the loud , solitary whistle of the cur- lew in a summer noon , or the wild mixing cadence of a troop of gray plovers in an autumnal morning 4 BIRDS AND POETS.
... says Cowper . " I never hear , " says Burns in one of his letters , " the loud , solitary whistle of the cur- lew in a summer noon , or the wild mixing cadence of a troop of gray plovers in an autumnal morning 4 BIRDS AND POETS.
Стр. 10
... never too close , never disturbing them , Cautiously peering , absorbing , translating . Shine ! Shine ! Shine ! Pour down your warmth , great Sun ! While we bask - Two together ! we two together . Winds blow South , or winds blow North ...
... never too close , never disturbing them , Cautiously peering , absorbing , translating . Shine ! Shine ! Shine ! Pour down your warmth , great Sun ! While we bask - Two together ! we two together . Winds blow South , or winds blow North ...
Стр. 15
... never roam , True to the kindred points of heaven and home . " The other poem I give entire : " Up with me ! up with me into the clouds ! For thy song , Lark , is strong ; Up with me , up with me into the clouds ! Singing , singing ...
... never roam , True to the kindred points of heaven and home . " The other poem I give entire : " Up with me ! up with me into the clouds ! For thy song , Lark , is strong ; Up with me , up with me into the clouds ! Singing , singing ...
Стр. 18
... never knew a female bird of any kind that did not appear utterly indifferent to the charms of voice and plumage that the male birds are so fond of display- ing . But I am inclined to believe that the 18 BIRDS AND POETS.
... never knew a female bird of any kind that did not appear utterly indifferent to the charms of voice and plumage that the male birds are so fond of display- ing . But I am inclined to believe that the 18 BIRDS AND POETS.
Стр. 20
... never a bird so fine . Chee , chee , chee . Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife , Pretty and quiet , with plain brown wings , Passing at home a patient life , Broods in the grass while her husband sings . Bob - o ' - link , bob - o ' - link ...
... never a bird so fine . Chee , chee , chee . Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife , Pretty and quiet , with plain brown wings , Passing at home a patient life , Broods in the grass while her husband sings . Bob - o ' - link , bob - o ' - link ...
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The Writings of John Burroughs: Birds and poets, with other papers John Burroughs Полный просмотр - 1904 |
The Writings of John Burroughs: Birds and poets, with other papers John Burroughs Полный просмотр - 1904 |
The Writings of John Burroughs: Birds and poets, with other papers John Burroughs Полный просмотр - 1904 |
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æsthetic April barn swallow beauty behold bird blood bobolink breath character charm color creature cuckoo earth Emerson emotional face fact feeling fields genius hear heard heart herd hermit thrush human intellectual kind lark larvæ Leaves of Grass light literary literature living look loon loud master mate melody mind mockingbird morning mountain nature nest never night nightingale Pe-wee perhaps person plumage poems poet poetic poetry purple finch reader robin sandpiper season seems Shakespeare sing snow song song sparrow songster soul sound sparrow species spirit spring stand strong summer swallows sweet Tennyson thee things Thoreau thou thought thrush tion titmouse traits trees true utter vesper sparrow voice Walt Whitman whole wild Wilson Flagg wings winter wood thrush woods
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Стр. 15 - Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home...
Стр. 22 - The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen. And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again. O blessed Bird ! the earth we pace Again appears to be An unsubstantial, faery place; That is fit home for Thee ! 1804.
Стр. 110 - I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
Стр. 14 - What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
Стр. 221 - Or, crown'd with attributes of woe Like glories, move his course, and show That life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom To shape and use. Arise and fly The reeling Faun, the sensual feast; Move upward, working out the beast, And let the ape and tiger die.
Стр. 6 - Less Philomel will deign a song In her sweetest saddest plight, Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke Gently o'er the accustomed oak; Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!
Стр. 191 - I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. There was never any more inception than there is now...
Стр. 20 - Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink: Brood, kind creature; you need not fear Thieves and robbers while I am here. Chee, chee, chee.
Стр. 23 - 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.
Стр. 35 - CROSS the narrow beach we flit, •^*- One little sandpiper and I, And fast I gather, bit by bit, The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry The wild waves reach their hands for it, The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, As up and down the beach we flit, One little sandpiper and I.