The Poetry of Nature

Sampson Low, Son, & Marston, 1868 - 63 páginas

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Página 6 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way...
Página 7 - At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere ; Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near. And soon that toil shall end ; — Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest And scream among thy fellows ; reeds shall bend Soon o'er thy sheltered nest.
Página 65 - Which the great lord inhabits not ; and so This grove is wild with tangling underwood, And the trim walks are broken up, and grass, Thin grass and king-cups grow within the paths.
Página 7 - 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, jo In the long way that I must tread alone Will lead my steps aright.
Página 65 - And hark! the Nightingale begins its song, 'Most musical, most melancholy' bird!* A melancholy bird? Oh! idle thought! In Nature there is nothing melancholy. But some night-wandering man whose heart was pierced With the remembrance of a grievous wrong. Or slow distemper, or neglected love, (And so, poor wretch!
Página 65 - In a deep pool, by happy chance we saw A two-fold image ; on a grassy bank A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood Another and the same ! Most beautiful, On the green turf, with his imperial front Shaggy and bold, and wreathed horns superb. The breathing creature stood ; as beautiful, Beneath him, showed his shadowy counterpart.
Página 7 - All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near. 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.
Página 65 - Glides through the pathways ; she knows all their notes, That gentle Maid ! and oft, a moment's space, What time the moon was lost behind a cloud, Hath heard a pause of silence...
Página 23 - A BARKING sound the shepherd hears, A cry as of a dog or fox ; He halts — and searches with his eyes Among the scattered rocks : And now at distance can discern A stirring in a brake of fern ; And instantly a dog is seen Glancing through that covert green. The dog is not of mountain breed ; Its motions, too, are wild and shy ; With something, as the shepherd thinks, Unusual in its...
Página 15 - POOR little Foal of an oppressed Race ! I love the languid Patience of thy face ; And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread, And clap thy ragged Coat, and pat thy head.

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