Journal of the Northamptonshire Natural History Society and Field Club, Volume 2

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Northamptonshire Natural History Society, 1883 - Natural history
 

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Page 318 - The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there.
Page 231 - Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied: for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the sooner it wears.
Page 308 - This year the Romans collected all the treasures that were in Britain, and some they hid in the earth, so that no one has since been able to find them ; and some they carried with them into Gaul.
Page 175 - The auburn nut that held thee, swallowing down Thy yet close-folded latitude of boughs And all thine embryo vastness at a gulp.
Page 281 - Be violets in their secret mews The flowers the wanton Zephyrs choose ; Proud be the rose, with rains and dews Her head impearling, Thou liv'st with less ambitious aim, Yet hast not gone without thy fame ; Thou art indeed by many a claim The Poet's darling.
Page 53 - Above the lowly plants it towers, The fennel, with its yellow flowers, And in an earlier age than ours Was gifted with the wondrous powers, Lost vision to restore. It gave new strength, and fearless mood ; And gladiators, fierce and rude, Mingled it in their daily food ; And he who battled and subdued, A wreath of fennel wore.
Page 305 - Muse, first of Arden tell, whose footsteps yet are found In her rough woodlands, more than any other ground That mighty Arden held even in her height of pride, Her one hand touching Trent, the other Severn's side.
Page 281 - Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o' daisies white Out o'er the grassy lea : Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams, And glads the azure skies; But nought can glad the weary wight That fast in durance lies. Now...
Page 175 - Time made thee what thou wast, king of the woods; And time hath made thee what thou art — a cave For owls to roost in. Once thy spreading boughs O'erhung the champaign ; and the numerous flocks That grazed it, stood beneath that ample cope Uncrowded, yet safe shelter'd from the storm.
Page 317 - Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love, delaying as the tender ash delays to clothe herself, when all the woods are green!

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