Wet Days at Edgewood with Old Farmers, Old Gardeners, and Old Pastorals

Voorkant
C. Scribner's sons, 1884 - 324 pagina's
 

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Populaire passages

Pagina 244 - The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung, The sober herd that lowed to meet their young, The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school , The watchdog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind, — These all in sweet confusion sought the shade And filled each pause the nightingale had made.
Pagina 276 - And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide; But, chiefly, in their hearts with Grace Divine preside.
Pagina 218 - I care not, Fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face...
Pagina 171 - And in thy right hand lead with thee, The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; And if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew To live with her, and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free...
Pagina 242 - Our little habitation was situated at the foot of a sloping hill, sheltered with a beautiful underwood behind, and a prattling river before; on one side a meadow, on the other a green.
Pagina 25 - ... that they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him and find him, though he be not far from every one of us : For in him we live, and move and have our being ; as certain also of your own poets [have said, for we are also his offspring.
Pagina 171 - 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; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow, Through the Sweet-Briar or the Vine, Or the twisted Eglantine.
Pagina 226 - A swarm of bees in May is worth a load of hay. A swarm of bees in June is worth a silver spoon. A swarm of bees in July is not worth a fly.
Pagina 258 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light. My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me. My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet, gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary...
Pagina 163 - I see those aims, those actions, which have won you with me the esteem of a person sent hither by some good providence from a far country to be the occasion and incitement of great good to this island.

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