The Writings of John Burroughs: The breath of lifeHoughton, Mifflin and Company, 1895 |
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Стр. 7
... cuckoo , the black- bird , and numerous others . Philomel has the color , manners , and habits of a thrush , - our hermit thrush , I but it is not a thrush at all , but a warbler . gather from the books that its song is protracted and ...
... cuckoo , the black- bird , and numerous others . Philomel has the color , manners , and habits of a thrush , - our hermit thrush , I but it is not a thrush at all , but a warbler . gather from the books that its song is protracted and ...
Стр. 21
... cuckoo , without recognizing its truthfulness , or how thoroughly , in the main , the description applies to our own species . If the poem had been written in New England or New York , it could not have suited our case better : " O ...
... cuckoo , without recognizing its truthfulness , or how thoroughly , in the main , the description applies to our own species . If the poem had been written in New England or New York , it could not have suited our case better : " O ...
Стр. 22
... Cuckoo ! shall I call thee Bird , Or but a wandering Voice ? " While I am lying on the grass , Thy twofold shout I hear , From hill to hill it seems to pass , At once far off , and near . " Though babbling only to the Vale , Of sunshine ...
... Cuckoo ! shall I call thee Bird , Or but a wandering Voice ? " While I am lying on the grass , Thy twofold shout I hear , From hill to hill it seems to pass , At once far off , and near . " Though babbling only to the Vale , Of sunshine ...
Стр. 23
... cuckoo is evidently a much gayer bird than ours , and much more noticeable . " Hark , how the jolly cuckoos sing ' Cuckoo ! ' to welcome in the spring , " Its says John Lyly three hundred years agone . note is easily imitated , and boys ...
... cuckoo is evidently a much gayer bird than ours , and much more noticeable . " Hark , how the jolly cuckoos sing ' Cuckoo ! ' to welcome in the spring , " Its says John Lyly three hundred years agone . note is easily imitated , and boys ...
Стр. 24
... cuckoo , a solitary voice , syllabling the loneliness that broods over streams and woods , - " At once far off , and near . " Our cuckoo is not a spring bird , being seldom seen or heard in the North before late in May . He is a great ...
... cuckoo , a solitary voice , syllabling the loneliness that broods over streams and woods , - " At once far off , and near . " Our cuckoo is not a spring bird , being seldom seen or heard in the North before late in May . He is a great ...
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April artist barn swallow beauty behold bird blood bobolink breath character charm color creature cuckoo earth Emerson emotional 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 personality 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 wonder 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 - Thrice welcome, darling of the spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; 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.
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. 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...
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. 37 - And the thought of death close-walking the other side of me, And I in the middle as with companions, and as holding the hands of companions, I fled forth to the hiding receiving night that talks not, Down to the shores of the water, the path by the swamp in the dimness, To the solemn shadowy cedars and ghostly pines so still...
Стр. 23 - Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
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. 221 - They say The solid earth whereon we tread In tracts of fluent heat began, And grew to seeming-random forms, The seeming prey of cyclic storms, Till at the last arose the man...
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!