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The Rhyme and Reason of Country Life, Or, Selections from Fields Old and New
Susan Fenimore Cooper
Visos knygos peržiūra - 1854
appears bear beauty beneath birds bloom boughs bowers breath bright bring buds clear close cloud dance dark deep delight doth earth fair fall field flow flowers forest fresh garden give grass green grove grow hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hour lady leaves light live look Lord mind morning mountain nature never night nightingale notes o'er once passed plain pleasure poet rest rich rise rocks rose round seems seen shade side sight silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spread spring stream summer sweet tell thee things thou thought Translation tree turn voice waters wave wide wild wind wings winter woods young youth
386 psl. - Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud...
76 psl. - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry fays ; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
86 psl. - We look before and after And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
39 psl. - Where some, like magistrates correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in. their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor...
154 psl. - GOD ALMIGHTY first planted a Garden. And indeed it is the purest of human pleasures. It is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man; without which buildings and palaces are but gross...
85 psl. - Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
190 psl. - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath. And stars to set but all Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! THE LOST PLEIAD.
76 psl. - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...