The spirit of the woods, by the author of 'The moral of flowers'.1837 |
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Страница 8
... height to most other of our forest trees , and by the great luxuriance of its shadowy foliage , which , however , never looks heavy or ungraceful , owing to the smallness of the leaves . Some naturalists doubt its right to be considered ...
... height to most other of our forest trees , and by the great luxuriance of its shadowy foliage , which , however , never looks heavy or ungraceful , owing to the smallness of the leaves . Some naturalists doubt its right to be considered ...
Страница 8
... height to most other of our forest trees , and by the great luxuriance of its shadowy foliage , which , however , never looks heavy or ungraceful , owing to the smallness of the leaves . Some naturalists doubt its right to be considered ...
... height to most other of our forest trees , and by the great luxuriance of its shadowy foliage , which , however , never looks heavy or ungraceful , owing to the smallness of the leaves . Some naturalists doubt its right to be considered ...
Страница 43
... climates , or on alpine heights , fits them in a peculiar manner for braving the difficulties to which their habitat exposes them , as it allows the snow and wind free passage through the interstices , securing them alike 43 Scotch Fir.
... climates , or on alpine heights , fits them in a peculiar manner for braving the difficulties to which their habitat exposes them , as it allows the snow and wind free passage through the interstices , securing them alike 43 Scotch Fir.
Страница 46
... height of one hundred and fifty feet . This brings to mind Milton's sublime description of Satan and his warlike habiliments . After likening his shield to " the moon , whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening ...
... height of one hundred and fifty feet . This brings to mind Milton's sublime description of Satan and his warlike habiliments . After likening his shield to " the moon , whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening ...
Страница 54
... height Might put to shame the eagle's sunward flight ; And not in fair Italia's sunny plains , Midst fallen palaces and mouldering fanes . Ah ! why , self - exil'd from thy hardy race , Mak'st thou in such sad haunts thy dwelling ...
... height Might put to shame the eagle's sunward flight ; And not in fair Italia's sunny plains , Midst fallen palaces and mouldering fanes . Ah ! why , self - exil'd from thy hardy race , Mak'st thou in such sad haunts thy dwelling ...
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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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Страница 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.
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Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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...
Страница 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...
Страница 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.
Страница 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...
Страница 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.
Страница 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...