The illustrated language of flowers

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G. Routledge, 1856
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Page 18 - 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.
Page 48 - By the household tree through which thine eye First looked in love to the summer sky, By the dewy gleam, by the very breath Of the primrose-tufts in the grass beneath, Upon thy heart there is laid a spell, Holy and precious — oh, guard it well ! By the sleepy ripple of the stream, Which...
Page 62 - O'er all the pools in our forest dells ; Stilly and lightly their vases rest On the quivering sleep of the water's breast, Catching the sunshine through leaves that throw To their scented bosoms an emerald glow ; And a star from the depth of each pearly cup, A golden star unto heaven looks up, As if seeking its kindred...
Page 5 - 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.
Page 65 - Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan; Sorrow calls no time that's gone ; Violets plucked the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again ; Trim thy locks, look cheerfully ; Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see ; Joys as winged dreams fly fast, Why should sadness longer last? Grief is but a wound to woe ; Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no mo. FROM 'THE NICE VALOUR.
Page 38 - And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest. But none ever trembled and panted with bliss...
Page 48 - O'er the flowers it brought from its childhood's home; Think thou again of the woody glade, And the sound by the rustling ivy made, Think of the tree at thy father's door, And the kindly spell shall have power once more!
Page 10 - 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 31 - It changes not, as seasons flow In changeful, silent course along ; Spring finds it verdant, leaves it so ; It outlives Summer's song ; Autumn no wan, or russet stain Upon its fadeless glory flings : And Winter o'er it sweeps in vain, With tempest on his wings.
Page 60 - The violet in her greenwood bower, Where birchen boughs with hazels mingle, May boast itself the fairest flower In glen, or copse, or forest dingle. Though fair her gems of azure hue, Beneath the dewdrop's weight reclining. I've seen an eye of lovelier blue, More sweet through watery lustre shining. The summer sun that dew shall dry, Ere yet the day be past its morrow ; Nor longer in...

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