"Under Green Leaves.": A Book of Rural PoemsRichard Henry Stoddard Bunce & Huntington, 1865 - 96 էջ |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 6–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 33
... dewy dreams , Drowsy through breathing back the new - mown hay , That rolls its fragrance o'er the fringèd streams— Mirrors in which the Sun now decks his quivering beams . VII . Uprise the lambs , fresh from their flowery slumber ( The ...
... dewy dreams , Drowsy through breathing back the new - mown hay , That rolls its fragrance o'er the fringèd streams— Mirrors in which the Sun now decks his quivering beams . VII . Uprise the lambs , fresh from their flowery slumber ( The ...
Էջ 45
... dewy morning's gentle wine ! Nature waits upon thee still , And thy verdant cup does fill ; ' Tis filled wherever thou dost tread , Nature's self's thy Ganymede . Thou dost drink , and dance , and sing , Happier than the happiest king ...
... dewy morning's gentle wine ! Nature waits upon thee still , And thy verdant cup does fill ; ' Tis filled wherever thou dost tread , Nature's self's thy Ganymede . Thou dost drink , and dance , and sing , Happier than the happiest king ...
Էջ 85
... , Views wilds , and swelling floods , And hamlets brown , and dim discovered spires ; And hears their simple bell , and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil . While Spring shall pour his showers , as oft he.
... , Views wilds , and swelling floods , And hamlets brown , and dim discovered spires ; And hears their simple bell , and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil . While Spring shall pour his showers , as oft he.
Էջ 91
... dewy eyes That watch me from the glen below . Ah , bear me with thee , lightly borne , Dip forward under starry light , And move me to my marriage - morn , And round again to happy night . Alfred Tennyson . SONG . O WELCOME , bat , and ...
... dewy eyes That watch me from the glen below . Ah , bear me with thee , lightly borne , Dip forward under starry light , And move me to my marriage - morn , And round again to happy night . Alfred Tennyson . SONG . O WELCOME , bat , and ...
Էջ 92
... dewy air ; Her steps are in the whispered sound That steals along the stilly ground . O dawn of day , in rosy bower , What art thou in this witching hour ! O noon of day , in sunshine bright , What art thou in the fall of night ! Joanna ...
... dewy air ; Her steps are in the whispered sound That steals along the stilly ground . O dawn of day , in rosy bower , What art thou in this witching hour ! O noon of day , in sunshine bright , What art thou in the fall of night ! Joanna ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alfred Tennyson amid ANDREW MARVELL beauty beneath birds bless blossoms blue boughs bowers breath breeze bright brook BUNCE & HUNTINGTON busy Bee clouds Cuckoo daisies deep delight dewy dost doth earth ECHOING GREEN eyes fair flowers George Darley glad golden grass greenwood GRONGAR HILL grove happy Hark hast hath hear heart heaven Heigh trolollie hither John Clare John Keats landscape lark leaves light linnet Little lamb lollie Lord Thurlow love good-morrow meadow meads merry murmuring Muse nest night NIGHT SONG nightingale nook o'er pipe Pluck primrose RICHARD HENRY STODDARD Robert Herrick round shade shepherd silver sing skies sleep soft SONG sound Spring star stream SUMMER MORNING sunny sweet thee thou art thou busy tree vale violets voice Wake wander weary wend wild Cherry-tree William Blake William Wordsworth wind wings woods
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Էջ 13 - Lines Written in Early Spring 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. Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
Էջ 27 - 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.
Էջ 20 - Now the bright morning star, Day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.
Էջ 90 - O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
Էջ 96 - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath...
Էջ 14 - tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure: — But the least motion which they made It seemed a thrill of pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there.
Էջ 60 - Meanwhile the mind from pleasure less Withdraws into its happiness: The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds and other seas; Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade.
Էջ 96 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown : Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home, She stood in. tears amid the alien corn ; The same that oft-times hath Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Էջ 18 - To BLOSSOMS FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here awhile To blush and gently smile, And go at last.
Էջ 26 - 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 and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery...