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114. oldal - THE USE OF FLOWERS. By MARY HOWITT. GOD might have bade the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak-tree, and the cedar-tree, Without a flower at all.
20. oldal - His gardeners young anil old ; He never takes a spade in hand, Nor worketh in the mould. It is not with the poor man so, — Wealth, servants, he has none ; And all the work that's done for him Must by himself be done.
200. oldal - And go now," said the grandmother, " Since falling is the dew, Go down unto the lonesome glen, And milk the mother-ewe ! " All down into the lonesome glen, Through copses thick and wild, Through moist rank grass, by trickling streams, Went on the willing child. And when she came to the lonesome glen, She kept beside the burn, And neither plucked the strawberry-flower Nor broke the lady-fern.
115. oldal - Might yet have drunk them all. Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, All dyed with rainbow light, All fashioned with supremest grace, Upspringing day and night, — Springing in valleys green and low And on the mountains high, And in the silent wilderness, Where no man passes by ! Our outward life requires them not, — Then wherefore had they birth ? To minister delight to man, To beautify the earth ; To comfort man, to whisper hope Whene'er his faith is dim ; For whoso careth for the flowers...
63. oldal - Down in valleys green and lowly, Murmuring not and gliding slowly ; Up in mountain hollows wild. Fretting like a peevish child; Through the hamlet, where all day In their waves the children play, — Running west, or running east. Doing good to man and beast, Always giving, weary never, Little streams, I love you ever ! THE WOLF.
188. oldal - Mid ripe ears on the Sabbath-day. O golden fields of bending corn. How beautiful they seem ! The reaper-folk, the piled-up sheaves, To me are like a dream : The sunshine and the very air Seem of old time, and take me there. — MARY...
132. oldal - The merry mill-stream dashes Down to the sea below : But in the quiet hollows The red trout groweth prime. For the miller and the miller's son To angle when they 've time.
119. oldal - To tell of sunny hours. While the trees are leafless, While the fields are bare, Buttercups and Daisies Spring up here and there.
89. oldal - OH the white sea-gull, the wild sea-gull, A joyful bird is he, As he lies like a cradled thing at rest In the arms of the sunny sea ! The little waves rock to and fro, And the white gull lies asleep, As the fisher's bark, with breeze and tide, Goes merrily over the deep. The ship, with her fair sails set, goes by, And her people stand to note How the sea-gull sits on the rocking waves As still as an anchored boat.