Gift of Flowers: Love's Wreath for 1854Rufus Wilmot Griswold Leavitt & Allen, 1854 - 287 páginas |
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Página 27
... things of obscene and unlovely forms , She bore in a basket of Indian woof Into the rough woods far aloof . In a basket , of grasses and wild flowers full , The freshest her gentle hands could pull For the poor banish'd insects , whose ...
... things of obscene and unlovely forms , She bore in a basket of Indian woof Into the rough woods far aloof . In a basket , of grasses and wild flowers full , The freshest her gentle hands could pull For the poor banish'd insects , whose ...
Página 32
... things seem , And we the shadows of the dream . It is a modest creed , and yet Pleasant , if one considers it , To own that death itself must be , Like all the rest , a mockery . Tha : garden sweet , that lady fair , And all sweet ...
... things seem , And we the shadows of the dream . It is a modest creed , and yet Pleasant , if one considers it , To own that death itself must be , Like all the rest , a mockery . Tha : garden sweet , that lady fair , And all sweet ...
Página 34
... but a day , Precious things , dear flowers , you say , Telling that the Being good Who supplies our daily food , Deems it needful to supply Daily food for heart and eye . So , though your life is but a day , 34 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS .
... but a day , Precious things , dear flowers , you say , Telling that the Being good Who supplies our daily food , Deems it needful to supply Daily food for heart and eye . So , though your life is but a day , 34 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS .
Página 37
... thing , If it be with instruction fraught ; That which will closest and longest cling Is alone worth a serious thought ! Should aught be unlovely which thus can shed Grace on the dying , and leaves on the dead ? THE VIOLET . FROM THE ...
... thing , If it be with instruction fraught ; That which will closest and longest cling Is alone worth a serious thought ! Should aught be unlovely which thus can shed Grace on the dying , and leaves on the dead ? THE VIOLET . FROM THE ...
Página 42
... The bee that in its matin mirth Hung over their pearls of dew , Must share alike the floweret's lot , And be with frailer things forgot . Not thus with thee in that dim day , When THE POETRY OF FLOWERS . The faded flowers.
... The bee that in its matin mirth Hung over their pearls of dew , Must share alike the floweret's lot , And be with frailer things forgot . Not thus with thee in that dim day , When THE POETRY OF FLOWERS . The faded flowers.
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Termos e frases comuns
Amaranth BARRY CORNWALL beauty beneath BERNARD BARTON bloom blossoms blue blush bosom boughs bowers breast breath breeze bright BROKEN FLOWER buds charms cheek child cloud cold Cowslip DAFFODILS daisy dead dear delight dost doth dreams drooping earth fair fairest Fancy crown flowerets fragrance gale garden gaze gentle flower glow golden grace green hath heart heaven hour JOHN KEATS JOHN STERLING leaf leaves life's light lily little rose lone look'd love's MELROSE ABBEY morning Narcissus nature's ne'er NOSEGAY nymph o'er odours pale pass'd perfume pride primrose purple rill round scarlet pimpernel scent sensitive plant shade shed shine showers sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit spring star stream summer sunny sweet tears tender thee thine thou art thought tomb tree twine vale vernal violet wall-flower weep wild wind wind-flower wing winter wither'd
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 31 - And the Naiad-like lily of the vale, Whom youth makes so fair and passion so pale, That the light of its tremulous bells is seen Through their pavilions of tender green...
Página 215 - You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing. We die, As your hours do, and dry Away Like to the Summer's rain ; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.
Página 118 - Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale prim-roses That die unmarried ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength...
Página 122 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is given.
Página 156 - And noble arch in proud decay, Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers ; But one thing want these banks of Rhine, — Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine...
Página 127 - Go, lovely Rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth! Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.
Página 214 - Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early rising sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along.
Página 231 - THERE is a flower, a little flower, With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky. The prouder beauties of the field In gay but quick succession shine, Race after race their honours yield, They flourish and decline. But this small flower, to Nature dear, While moons and stars their courses run, Wreathes the whole circle of the year, Companion of the Sun.
Página 22 - Neath cloistered boughs each floral bell that swingeth And tolls its perfume on the passing air Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer : Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane most catholic and solemn Which God hath plann'd,— To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply, Its choir the winds and waves, its organ thunder, Its dome the sky.