Pictorial Calendar of the Seasons, ...

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Mary Botham Howitt
H. G. Bohn, 1854 - 567 ページ
 

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216 ページ - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
209 ページ - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not. Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower.
209 ページ - 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.
147 ページ - Thrice welcome, darling of the spring; Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing; A voice, a mystery...
105 ページ - ... Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee : A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company : I gazed — and gazed — but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought : For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude ; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with...
105 ページ - I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
64 ページ - Go, from the creatures thy instructions take; learn from the birds what food the thickets yield; learn from the beasts the physic of the field; thy arts of building from the bee receive ; learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave ; learn of the little nautilus to sail, spread the thin oar and catch the driving gale.
210 ページ - 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.
548 ページ - And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Holly tree.
90 ページ - It is the first mild day of March : Each minute sweeter than before. The red-breast sings from the tall larch That stands beside our door. There is a blessing in the air, Which seems a sense of joy to yield To the bare trees, and mountains bare, And grass in the green field.

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