Beauties of the Country: Or, Descriptions of Rural Customs, Objects, Scenery, and the SeasonsJ. Van Voorst, 1837 - 425 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 10
... called loudly from the clouded sky . Then Winter shouted from the tops of the desolate hills , and we shrank from the winds we once had wooed , and gathered no refreshment from the falling showers , and heard not a sweet voice wile away ...
... called loudly from the clouded sky . Then Winter shouted from the tops of the desolate hills , and we shrank from the winds we once had wooed , and gathered no refreshment from the falling showers , and heard not a sweet voice wile away ...
الصفحة 25
... called a " dead season ; " so it is to appearance , although Nature is now busily employed in preparing her gaudy garments for summer . Take but a brown hard bud from the hedges , dissect it , examine it well with the aid of a ...
... called a " dead season ; " so it is to appearance , although Nature is now busily employed in preparing her gaudy garments for summer . Take but a brown hard bud from the hedges , dissect it , examine it well with the aid of a ...
الصفحة 27
... called ) are kept clear from reeds , coarse herbage , & c . in order that the fowl may get on them to sit and dress themselves . Along the ditch poles are driven into the ground , close to its edge , on each side , and the tops are bent ...
... called ) are kept clear from reeds , coarse herbage , & c . in order that the fowl may get on them to sit and dress themselves . Along the ditch poles are driven into the ground , close to its edge , on each side , and the tops are bent ...
الصفحة 28
... called " working " them . The man now retreats farther back , working the dog at different holes until the ducks are sufficiently under the net . He then commands his dog to lie down behind the fence , and going him- self forward to the ...
... called " working " them . The man now retreats farther back , working the dog at different holes until the ducks are sufficiently under the net . He then commands his dog to lie down behind the fence , and going him- self forward to the ...
الصفحة 31
... called the winter nightingale , only that he never sings after the blue twilight . From a comfortable room at this dead season , it is delicious to look out upon a robin , as he perches on a near tree , among " naked shoots , barren as ...
... called the winter nightingale , only that he never sings after the blue twilight . From a comfortable room at this dead season , it is delicious to look out upon a robin , as he perches on a near tree , among " naked shoots , barren as ...
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
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
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 175 - 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.
الصفحة 13 - 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.
الصفحة 263 - 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.
الصفحة 165 - 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...
الصفحة 174 - 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...
الصفحة 152 - To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green, And, sweet as Flora...
الصفحة 283 - 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.
الصفحة 283 - 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.
الصفحة 258 - 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...
الصفحة 283 - 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...