Beauties of the Country: Or, Descriptions of Rural Customs, Objects, Scenery, and the SeasonsJ. Van Voorst, 1837 - 425 |
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Strona 11
... Perhaps there is no country in the world where green fields and quiet out - of - the - way places are more eagerly sought for than in England . I speak not of the enjoyment of them occasionally , but a thirst to possess some such spot ...
... Perhaps there is no country in the world where green fields and quiet out - of - the - way places are more eagerly sought for than in England . I speak not of the enjoyment of them occasionally , but a thirst to possess some such spot ...
Strona 14
... perhaps tread upon the spot where the rival banners of York or Lancaster have proudly waved . Alone ! there is no solitude on the hills ! You may walk in company with thousands there , although alone ; throngs of armed men , and the ...
... perhaps tread upon the spot where the rival banners of York or Lancaster have proudly waved . Alone ! there is no solitude on the hills ! You may walk in company with thousands there , although alone ; throngs of armed men , and the ...
Strona 37
... Perhaps sickness , let in by hunger , has seated itself upon their pallid cheeks . O that this picture was wholly imaginary ! but , alas , it is not ! Such a scene have I witnessed in England , even after an iron - hearted overseer had ...
... Perhaps sickness , let in by hunger , has seated itself upon their pallid cheeks . O that this picture was wholly imaginary ! but , alas , it is not ! Such a scene have I witnessed in England , even after an iron - hearted overseer had ...
Strona 45
... perhaps , finding it grazing securely knee - deep in some ditch on the few green things that yet remain . I cannot resist quoting the following description of winter , which Warton has modernized from the old poetry of Gawain ( or Gavin ) ...
... perhaps , finding it grazing securely knee - deep in some ditch on the few green things that yet remain . I cannot resist quoting the following description of winter , which Warton has modernized from the old poetry of Gawain ( or Gavin ) ...
Strona 51
... perhaps several miles for an additional supply of horses , or to call in the assist- ance of labourers to liberate his charge by using the spade and pickaxe . " Good morrow to my Valentine ! " sings sweet Ophelia ; and we turn back our ...
... perhaps several miles for an additional supply of horses , or to call in the assist- ance of labourers to liberate his charge by using the spade and pickaxe . " Good morrow to my Valentine ! " sings sweet Ophelia ; and we turn back our ...
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
appearance autumn banks beautiful bees beneath birds bloom blossoms blue boughs branches breath bright buds chaffinch Christmas clouds colours cowslip cuckoo daisies dark deep delight dogs earth eyes feel feet fieldfares fields flowers foliage forest fragrance garden gaze gipsies grass green hand happy hath head heard heart heath heaven hedge heigh-ho hills hive Idlesse insects Izaak Walton Julius Cæsar labour leaf leaves Leigh Hunt light Lincolnshire look Maid Marian May-pole meadows merry month morning murmur Nabal Nature nest never night o'er pleasant pleasure poetry purple quadrupeds queen rich ringdove Robin Hood rose round says scene scenery season seems seen shade sheep-shearing sight silent singing sleep song sound spring stone-curlew stream summer sweet thee thou throws titmouse trees valleys voice walk wander waving weather wild wind wings winter Woodcock woods yellow young
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 175 - 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, Cluster'd 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.
Strona 13 - And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
Strona 263 - 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.
Strona 165 - With mazy error under pendent shades Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon Pour'd forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain...
Strona 174 - Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness...
Strona 152 - To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green, And, sweet as Flora...
Strona 283 - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar Comes down upon the waters, all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse ; And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.
Strona 283 - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
Strona 258 - Immortal amarant, a flower which once In Paradise, fast by the tree of life, Began to bloom ; but soon for man's offence To heaven removed where first it grew, there grows, And flowers aloft shading the fount of life, And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream...
Strona 283 - This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring . Sounds sweet as if a Sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. It is the hush of night...