The spirit of the woods, by the author of 'The moral of flowers'.1837 |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 28–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 5
... bear up so well against the tempest ; indeed , it is supposed to acquire greater stability of root from every contest with the elements , and to thrive " E'en by the rude concussion of the storm . " " Mark yonder oaks ! superior to the ...
... bear up so well against the tempest ; indeed , it is supposed to acquire greater stability of root from every contest with the elements , and to thrive " E'en by the rude concussion of the storm . " " Mark yonder oaks ! superior to the ...
Էջ 7
... bear the brunt of battle's rage And thunder on the foe . To thee but little recks it What seasons come or go , Thou lovest to breathe the gale of spring And bask in summer's glow , But more to feel the wintry winds Sweep by in awful ...
... bear the brunt of battle's rage And thunder on the foe . To thee but little recks it What seasons come or go , Thou lovest to breathe the gale of spring And bask in summer's glow , But more to feel the wintry winds Sweep by in awful ...
Էջ 9
... with water , as it bears , without injury , the extremes of drought and moisture . Its leaves , in sea- sons of scarcity , yield fodder for cattle , and were used and recommended for this purpose by the ancient Romans . 9.
... with water , as it bears , without injury , the extremes of drought and moisture . Its leaves , in sea- sons of scarcity , yield fodder for cattle , and were used and recommended for this purpose by the ancient Romans . 9.
Էջ 20
... bear thy name , do love thy gentle thrall , Who at thy font , Christ's soldiers sworn and seal'd , Have never wish'd that sacred vow repeal'd , But , ever and anon , renew'd the same , When at thine altar met in His dear name , - Then ...
... bear thy name , do love thy gentle thrall , Who at thy font , Christ's soldiers sworn and seal'd , Have never wish'd that sacred vow repeal'd , But , ever and anon , renew'd the same , When at thine altar met in His dear name , - Then ...
Էջ 28
Rebecca Hey. THE BEECH . FAGUS SYLVATICA . " Not a beech but bears some cipher , Tender word , or amorous text . " To admire the beech , is to rebel against high authority ; yet who , that is not entirely devoted to pictorial effect ...
Rebecca Hey. THE BEECH . FAGUS SYLVATICA . " Not a beech but bears some cipher , Tender word , or amorous text . " To admire the beech , is to rebel against high authority ; yet who , that is not entirely devoted to pictorial effect ...
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Common terms and phrases
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
Սիրված հատվածներ
Էջ 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.
Էջ 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
Էջ 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.
Էջ 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.
Էջ 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...
Էջ 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...
Էջ 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.
Էջ 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...
Էջ 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.
Էջ 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...