Burford Cottage, and Its Robin-red-breast

الغلاف الأمامي
T. Tegg and Son, 1835 - 476 من الصفحات
 

ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة

لم نعثر على أي مراجعات في الأماكن المعتادة.

الصفحات المحددة

طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات

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مقاطع مشهورة

الصفحة 326 - Where Angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.
الصفحة 324 - Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ; Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent...
الصفحة 462 - And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.
الصفحة 296 - Tamed by the cruel season, crowd around The winnowing store, and claim the little boon Which Providence assigns them. One alone, The redbreast, sacred to the household gods, Wisely regardful of th...
الصفحة 249 - Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke, When round the ruins of their ancient oak The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, And games and carols closed the busy day. Her wheel at rest, the matron thrills no more With treasured tales, and legendary lore.
الصفحة 330 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
الصفحة 24 - Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains ; and of all that we behold From this green earth...
الصفحة 95 - To hear the lark begin his flight And singing startle the dull night From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise...
الصفحة 383 - For she is the brightness of the everlasting light, the unspotted mirror of the power of God, and the image of his goodness.
الصفحة 95 - Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear, Wild Nature's sweetest notes they hear : On green untrodden banks they view The hyacinth's neglected hue ; In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds, They spy the squirrel's airy bounds ; And startle from her ashen spray, Across the glen, the screaming jay : Each native charm their steps explore Of solitude's sequester'd store. For them the moon with cloudless ray Mounts, to illume their homeward way: Their weary spirits to relieve, The meadows incense breathe...

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