The language of flowers [by L. Cortambert. Transl.]. (Google eBook)

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Page 214 - She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore When the stormy winds do blow ; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Page 47 - Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd : a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Page 56 - 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. 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.
Page 59 - As if here were those cooler shades of love. Can such delights be in the street " And open fields and we not see't ? Come, we'll abroad; and let's obey The proclamation made for May : And sin no more, as we have done, by staying; But, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.
Page 59 - Come, my Corinna, come; and, coming, mark How each field turns a street, each street a park Made green and trimmed with trees; see how Devotion gives each house a bough Or branch; each porch, each door ere this An ark, a tabernacle is, Made up of white-thorn, neatly interwove; As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Page 59 - A deal of youth, ere this, is come Back, and with white-thorn laden home. Some have despatched their cakes and cream Before that we have left to dream: And some have wept, and wooed, and plighted troth, And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth...
Page 19 - So yellow, green, and sickly too; Ask me why the stalk is weak, And bending, yet it doth not break ; I must tell you, these discover What doubts and fears are in a lover.
Page 14 - With woodbine, many a perfume breathed From plants that wake when others sleep, From timid jasmine buds, that keep Their odour to themselves all day, But, when the sunlight dies away, Let the delicious secret out To every breeze that roams about...
Page 39 - DUKE'S PALACE. [Enter DUKE, CURIO, LORDS; MUSICIANS attending.] DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die. That strain again; it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour. Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Page 347 - TwAs a lovely thought to mark the hours, As they floated in light away, By the opening and the folding flowers, That laugh to the summer's day.

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