Attractions of Language, Or A Popular View of Natural Language: In All Its Varied Displays, in the Animate and Inanimate World; and as Corresponding with Instinct, Intelligence and Reason ...

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J. & D. Atwood, 1842 - 202 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 94 - And soon that toil shall end ; Soon shall thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. Thou'rt gone: the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright.
الصفحة 94 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
الصفحة 94 - Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean side?
الصفحة 56 - There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's- lay, The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, Still sing the God of Seasons as they roll.
الصفحة 90 - O'er thymy downs she bends her busy course, And many a stream allures her to its source. 'T is noon, 't is night. That eye so finely wrought, Beyond the search of sense, the soar of thought, Now vainly asks the scenes she left behind ; Its orb so full, its vision so confined ! Who guides the patient pilgrim to her cell...
الصفحة 25 - IN Eastern lands they talk in flowers, And they tell in a garland their loves and cares ; Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers, On its leaves a mystic language bears.
الصفحة 90 - ... speech.— And see, the master but returns to die! Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly ? The blasts of...
الصفحة 90 - tis night. That eye so finely wrought, Beyond the search of sense, the soar of thought, Now vainly asks the scenes she left behind; Its orb so full, its vision so confined! Who guides the patient pilgrim to her cell ? Who bids her soul with conscious triumph swell? With conscious truth retrace the mazy clue Of varied scents, that charmed her as she flew ? Hail, MEMORY, hail! thy universal reign Guards the least link of Being's glorious chain.
الصفحة 92 - Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
الصفحة 56 - Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams, Or Winter rises in the blackening east, Be my tongue mute, my Fancy * paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat...

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