Beauties of the Country: Or, Descriptions of Rural Customs, Objects, Scenery, and the SeasonsJ. Van Voorst, 1837 - 425 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 59 találatból.
v. oldal
... merry England . In writing a work on the country , no author can depend entirely upon himself : he must , of necessity , have recourse to the writings of others : he may add something of his own ; but he must trust more to showing in a ...
... merry England . In writing a work on the country , no author can depend entirely upon himself : he must , of necessity , have recourse to the writings of others : he may add something of his own ; but he must trust more to showing in a ...
2. oldal
... merry shouts of old and Are sights and sounds that still declare Earth is not fill'd alone with care . How happy , too , the angler's life , Who sits on flowery banks all day , And hears no sound of pain or strife , But calmly dreams ...
... merry shouts of old and Are sights and sounds that still declare Earth is not fill'd alone with care . How happy , too , the angler's life , Who sits on flowery banks all day , And hears no sound of pain or strife , But calmly dreams ...
3. oldal
... merry , noisy nutters they , Who through the tangling forest stray . The loud song of the rural swain , Or clap of some old creaking gate , Or ploughboy whistling in the lane As home he is returning late , What time the sheeted wild ...
... merry , noisy nutters they , Who through the tangling forest stray . The loud song of the rural swain , Or clap of some old creaking gate , Or ploughboy whistling in the lane As home he is returning late , What time the sheeted wild ...
21. oldal
... Merry Christmas , with all its morrice - dances , and quaint and innocent pastimes , only exists . in a few retired villages . The May - pole only rears its honoured head in a few out - of - the - way places , where modern fashions ...
... Merry Christmas , with all its morrice - dances , and quaint and innocent pastimes , only exists . in a few retired villages . The May - pole only rears its honoured head in a few out - of - the - way places , where modern fashions ...
35. oldal
... merry laugh has rung over the wilderness , that the blazing hearth has burned where now the snow - drift gathers . Still the lovely flower maintains its beautiful form in the cold air , while heat throws out the petals and destroys its ...
... merry laugh has rung over the wilderness , that the blazing hearth has burned where now the snow - drift gathers . Still the lovely flower maintains its beautiful form in the cold air , while heat throws out the petals and destroys its ...
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
appearance autumn banks beautiful bees beneath birds bloom blossoms blue boughs branches breath bright buds chaffinch Christmas clouds colours cowslip cuckoo daisies dark deep delight dogs earth eyes feel feet fieldfares fields flowers foliage forest fragrance garden gaze gipsies grass green hand happy hath head heard heart heath heaven hedge heigh-ho hills hive Idlesse insects Izaak Walton Julius Cæsar labour leaf leaves Leigh Hunt light Lincolnshire look Maid Marian May-pole meadows merry month morning murmur Nabal Nature nest never night o'er pleasant pleasure poetry purple quadrupeds queen rich ringdove Robin Hood rose round says scene scenery season seems seen shade sheep-shearing sight silent singing sleep song sound spring stone-curlew stream summer sweet thee thou throws titmouse trees valleys voice walk wander waving weather wild wind wings winter Woodcock woods yellow young
Népszerű szakaszok
175. oldal - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
13. oldal - And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
263. oldal - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
165. oldal - With mazy error under pendent shades Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon Pour'd forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain...
174. oldal - Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness...
152. oldal - To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green, And, sweet as Flora...
283. oldal - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar Comes down upon the waters, all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse ; And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.
283. oldal - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
258. oldal - Immortal amarant, a flower which once In Paradise, fast by the tree of life, Began to bloom ; but soon for man's offence To heaven removed where first it grew, there grows, And flowers aloft shading the fount of life, And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream...
283. oldal - This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring . Sounds sweet as if a Sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. It is the hush of night...