The spirit of the woods, by the author of 'The moral of flowers'.1837 |
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Стр. 16
... meet for summer's burning hour ! Ah ! why , perfidious , do ye now forsake Your pebbly beds ? -ye , who did tempt the flower , With promise bland , to ope its golden eye Upon your shelving marge , and leave it thus to die ! From you ...
... meet for summer's burning hour ! Ah ! why , perfidious , do ye now forsake Your pebbly beds ? -ye , who did tempt the flower , With promise bland , to ope its golden eye Upon your shelving marge , and leave it thus to die ! From you ...
Стр. 27
... meet thy lore receive , - Eloquent teacher ! — yet what fears were mine , What dark misgivings , did not faith perceive " A still , small voice " blend other truths with thine , And , where thou fail'st , take up the wondrous theme ...
... meet thy lore receive , - Eloquent teacher ! — yet what fears were mine , What dark misgivings , did not faith perceive " A still , small voice " blend other truths with thine , And , where thou fail'st , take up the wondrous theme ...
Стр. 38
... meet with it indubitably wild , no one can doubt its being perfectly naturalised . The French , " growing tired of the horse- chestnut , " as Du Hamel reports , adopted this tree , for ornamental plantations , in the time of Louis XIV ...
... meet with it indubitably wild , no one can doubt its being perfectly naturalised . The French , " growing tired of the horse- chestnut , " as Du Hamel reports , adopted this tree , for ornamental plantations , in the time of Louis XIV ...
Стр. 43
... meet on high , His boughs athwart the narrow'd sky . " THE exact adaptation of every object in nature to the situation and circumstances in which it is placed is beautifully exemplified in the pine tribe . The texture of their timber ...
... meet on high , His boughs athwart the narrow'd sky . " THE exact adaptation of every object in nature to the situation and circumstances in which it is placed is beautifully exemplified in the pine tribe . The texture of their timber ...
Стр. 49
... meet the blow . Not so when call'd to hear of others ' woe : Then may soft pity touch some chord within , Prompting the tear of sympathy to flow , And words of healing , such as gently win The mourner's stricken heart , and pour sweet ...
... meet the blow . Not so when call'd to hear of others ' woe : Then may soft pity touch some chord within , Prompting the tear of sympathy to flow , And words of healing , such as gently win The mourner's stricken heart , and pour sweet ...
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The Spirit of the Woods, by the Author of 'The Moral of Flowers' Rebecca Hey Недоступно для просмотра - 2016 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
adorn alder alluded amongst ancient Arbutus autumn banyan beauty beech beneath berries birch birks of Aberfeldy bloom blossoms boughs bower branches breath bright brow cedar cherry clusters crown cultivated cypress dark doth earth Evelyn evergreens fair fair brow fancy feel flowers foliage forest fragrance fruit garden genus Gilpin gives gloom glory glow graceful green ground grove grows growth hath hawthorn hazel heart heaven height holly honour LAURUS NOBILIS leaf leaves misletoe Mount Ida mountain mountain ash myrtle native nature Norway spruce o'er olive paliurus palm peace pine plant poet pyracantha rock rose sacred says scene scenery seem'd shade Shakspeare shrubs smile soil solemn song species spell spring summer sweet sylvan tears temple thee Thomas Dick Lauder thorns thou timber tint tree vine Virgil weeping whilst wild wild cherry willow wood yield
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Стр. 95 - Do not all charms fly At the mere touch of cold philosophy? There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine — Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.
Стр. 151 - I saw them under a green mantling vine That crawls along the side of yon small hill, Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots ; Their port was more than human, as they stood : I took it for a faery vision Of some gay creatures of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play i
Стр. 92 - Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. Some say no evil thing that walks by night. In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost, That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, No goblin or swart faery of the mine, Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
Стр. 14 - Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings.
Стр. 271 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old survey'd ; And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground, And sleights of art and feats of strength went round...
Стр. 183 - The fig-tree ; not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade High over-arch'd, and echoing walks between...
Стр. 2 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below, — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy tempests blow — When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Стр. 121 - It seems a day (I speak of one from many singled out) One of those heavenly days that cannot die ; When, in the eagerness of boyish hope, I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung, A nutting-crook in hand ; and turned my steps...
Стр. 173 - Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining, In Desolation unrepining, Without a hope on earth to find A mirror in an answering mind, Meek souls there are, who little dream Their daily strife an Angel's theme, Or that the rod they take so calm, Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm.
Стр. 258 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye. ! Whose agonies are evils of a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within...