 And there's never a leaf or a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace; The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives...  Blackwood's Magazine - 528. oldal1851Teljes nézet - Információ erről a könyvről
 | Francelia Butler - 1977 - 520 oldal
[ Sajnáljuk, az oldal tartalma korlátozott hozzáférésű. ] | |
 | 1943 - 392 oldal
[ Sajnáljuk, az oldal tartalma korlátozott hozzáférésű. ] | |
 | Worthy Publishing - 1981 - 182 oldal
[ Sajnáljuk, az oldal tartalma korlátozott hozzáférésű. ] | |
 | 1982 - 348 oldal
...startles in meadows green . The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace; The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves , And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer... | |
 | Brainerd Kellogg - 1990 - 304 oldal
[ Sajnáljuk, az oldal tartalma korlátozott hozzáférésű. ] | |
 | Alan Lupack - 1992 - 512 oldal
...buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there 's never a leaf or a blade too mean To be sorr.e happy creature's palace; The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'crrun With the deluge of summer... | |
 | 1906 - 510 oldal
...having its allotted purpose in life, to speak goodness in one form or another. In the words of Lowell, "There's never a leaf or a blade too mean to be some happy creature's palace." The dust at your feet contains its seeds of fruition that one day will produce both flower and fruit. Even... | |
 | Roy Jay Cook - 1958 - 200 oldal
[ Sajnáljuk, az oldal tartalma korlátozott hozzáférésű. ] | |
 | Carmela Ciuraru - 2000 - 280 oldal
[ Sajnáljuk, az oldal tartalma korlátozott hozzáférésű. ] | |
 | Carmela Ciuraru - 2001 - 276 oldal
...be seen Thrilling back over hills and valleys; The cowslip startles in meadows green, The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there's never a leaf or a blade too mean The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined... | |
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