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amid appear Autumn beam beauty beneath blooming breast breathes breeze bright charm circling clouds comes dark death deep delight descends e'en earth fair fall fancy fear feels fields flame flocks flood force give gloom grace grove hand happy heart heaven Hence hills human kind land light lively look lost mind mingled morning mountains Muse Nature night o'er once passions peace plain poet pride pure race rage rise river rocks roll round rural scarce scene season sense shade shake shining smile snow soft song soul sounding spirit spreads Spring storm stream Summer sweet swelling taste tender thee Thomson thou thought thousand thro toil train turn vale various virtue voice walk waste wave whole wide wild winds wing Winter wonders woods youth
Strona 32 - Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot, To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast.
Strona 159 - Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile, And what your bounded view, which only saw A little part, deem'd Evil, is no more ; The storms of Wintry Time will quickly pass, And one unbounded Spring encircle all.
Strona 163 - There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, Still sing the God of Seasons as they roll.
Strona xxiii - wonders that he never saw before what Thomson shews him, and that he never yet has felt what Thomson impresses.
Strona 161 - Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Strona 164 - When, e'en at last, the solemn hour shall come, And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, I cheerful will obey : there, with new powers, Will rising wonders sing. I cannot go Where universal love not smiles around...
Strona 137 - In vain for him the officious wife prepares The fire fair-blazing, and the vestment warm ; In vain his little children, peeping out Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, With tears of artless innocence. Alas ! Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold, Nor friends, nor sacred home.
Strona 1 - And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze, Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets Deform the day delightless...
Strona 161 - With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling year : And oft Thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks : And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales. Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd, And spreads a common feast for all that lives...