Wild Flowers, Volume 1

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Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1852 - Botany

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Page 171 - O'er all the fragrant bowers, Thou need'st not be ashamed to show Thy satin-threaded flowers; For dull the eye, the heart is dull, That cannot feel how fair, Amid all beauty beautiful, Thy tender blossoms are...
Page 150 - But to nobler sights Michael from Adam's eyes the film removed, Which that false fruit, that promised clearer sight. Had bred; then purged with euphrasy and rue The visual nerve, for he had much to see, And from the well of life three drops instill'd.
Page 90 - Borage and Hellebore fill two scenes, Sovereign plants to purge the veins Of Melancholy, and cheer the heart, Of those black fumes which make it smart ; To clear the Brain of misty fogs, Which dull our senses, and Soul clogs.
Page 5 - SWALLOW. THE gorse is yellow on the heath, The banks with speedwell flowers are gay, The oaks are budding, and beneath, The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath, The silver wreath of May.
Page 87 - Though cheer'd by his lady's sight. Then the blossoms blue to the bank he threw, Ere he sank in the eddying tide ; And " Lady, I'm gone, thine own knight true, Forget me not,
Page 74 - And fumitory too — a name That Superstition holds to fame — Whose red and purple mottled flowers Are cropp'd by maids in weeding hours, To boil in water, milk, and whey, For washes on a holiday, To make their beauty fair and sleek, And scare the tan from Summer's cheek...
Page 181 - A hundred times, by rock or bower, Ere thus I have lain couched an hour, Have I derived from thy sweet power Some apprehension, Some steady love, some brief delight, Some memory that had taken flight, Some chime of fancy wrong or right, Or stray invention.
Page 36 - Then from his rocky pulpit I heard cry The Stonecrop. See how loose to earth I grow, And draw my juicy nurture from the sky. So drive not thou, fond man, thy root too low ; But loosely clinging here, From God's supernal sphere Draw life's unearthly food, catch heaven's undying glow.
Page 23 - But woe to the wight who meets the Green Knight, Except on his faulchion arm Spell-proof he bear, like the brave St. Clair, The holy trefoil's charm...

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