Wild Flowers, Volume 2

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Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1853 - Wild flowers

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Page 169 - Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ?— God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo God!
Page 51 - Not higher than a two-years' child, It stands erect this aged thorn; No leaves it has, no thorny points; It is a mass of knotted joints, A wretched thing forlorn. It stands erect, and like a stone With lichens it is overgrown.
Page 133 - Our outward life requires them not ; Then wherefore had they birth ? — To minister delight to man, To beautify the earth. To comfort man, — to whisper hope Whene'er his faith is dim ; For who so careth for the flowers Will much more care for him ! THE WOODLAND SANCTUARY.
Page 122 - My childhood's earliest thoughts are linked with thee ; The sight of thee calls back the robin's song, Who from the dark old tree Beside the door, sang clearly all day long, And I, secure in childish piety, Listened as if I heard an angel sing With news from Heaven, which he did bring Fresh every day to my untainted ears, When birds and flowers and I were happy peers.
Page 73 - He is come, Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs, And bearing on their fragrance ; and he brings Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs, And sound of swaying branches, and the voice Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs Are stirring in his breath; a thousand flowers, By the road-side and the borders of the brook, Nod...
Page 20 - THUS, thus begin, the yearly rites Are due to Pan on these bright nights ; His morn now riseth, and invites To sports, to dances and delights : All envious and profane, away, This is the shepherd's holiday.
Page 17 - And oft in pleasure's dream they hie Round homesteads by the village side, Scratching the hedge-row mosses by, Where painted pooty shells abide ; Mistaking oft the ivy spray For leaves that come with budding spring, And wondering, in their search for play, Why birds delay to build and sing.
Page 29 - When .blossoms clothe the trees, How sweet to throw the lattice up. And scent thee on the breeze. The butterfly is then abroad, The bee is on the wing, And on the hawthorn by the road The linnets sit and sing.
Page 6 - All other trees are wont to wear. First leaves, then flowers, and last, Their burden of rich fruit to bear When summer's pride is past : But thou, — so prompt thy flowers to show, Bear'st but the harsh, unwelcome sloe.
Page 61 - The stooping lilies of the valley, That love with shades and dews to dally, And bending droop on slender threads, With broad hood-leaves above their heads, Like white-robed maids, in summer hours, Beneath umbrellas shunning showers. His epithets strengthen and sharpen ; earlier he would not have thought of speaking of 'bright glib ice', or of the almanac's 'wisdom gossiped from the stars'.

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