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The Forest of Wild Thyme: A Tale for Children Under Ninety (Classic Reprint)
No preview available - 2015
beat blind blind man cried boughs breath City of Sleep cloud cried crimson dark dear Dickory dream eyes faint fairy father fear feet FOREST OF WILD fragrant Gates glade gleam glow gold golden Golden horn grey hand heard heart heaven HIDEOUS HERMIT horn Hush killed Cock Robin King of Fairy-land King of Kings kiss knew Ladybird light Little Boy Blue little brother Peterkin look for Peterkin merry little Peterkin mighty moon mortal Mother-mine murmur Mustard-seed myrrh and frankincense mysterious mystic nearer never night o'er ogre once parlour parrot's beak pearl-pale Pease-blossom purple purple night rain rhyme rose and blue rosy round scented seemed sigh Singing skies Smallest Flower smile song sorrow souls sound spider splendid star stole stood strange sunset-coloured sweet swing tears tell told Toll trees tune voice weary whisper wild thyme WILLIAM BLACKWOOD wings wonder wonderful song
Page 89 - Ah, who knows, who knows, who knows? A man that died on a lonely hill May tell you, perhaps, but none other will, Little child. What does it take to make a rose, Mother-mine? The God that died to make it knows It takes the world's eternal wars, It takes the moon and all the stars, It takes the might of heaven and hell And the everlasting Love as well, Little child.
Page 13 - OH, grown-ups cannot understand And grown-ups never will, How short's the way to fairy-land Across the purple hill: They smile: their smile is very bland, Their eyes are wise and chill; And yet — at just a child's command The world's an Eden still.
Page 40 - And we couldn't quite remember where we'd heard that phrase before, As the great grey-bearded ogre stood beside his open door; But an echo seemed to answer from a land beyond the sky — Won't you walk into my parlour 1...
Page 10 - And there in that smallest bud lay furled The secret and meaning of all the world.
Page 20 - I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine...
Page 27 - In the library : he's listening for your footstep on the stair And your patter down the passage, he can only think of Peterkin : Come back, come back to father, for to-day he'd let us tear His newest book to make a paper-boat for little Peterkin.