Trees in Prose and PoetryMary Grace Fickett Ginn & Company, 1902 - Počet stran: 184 |
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Trees in Prose and Poetry (1902) Gertrude Lincoln Stone,Mary Grace Fickett Náhled není k dispozici. - 2008 |
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American elm Apollo apple tree ash tree autumn bark beautiful beeches behold beneath Birch Tree bird bloom blossoms boughs breeze Cambridge cedar Color dark Druids eagle earth England eyes father feet Fir Tree fire flowers fruit green head heart heaven Helen Hunt Jackson hemlock tree HENRY DAVID THOREAU HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HORSE-CHESTNUT JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Jotun Jupiter king land leafy LEGEND LONGFELLOW looked Madame Camilla MOUNTAIN ASH mulberry tree murmuring Number old apple tree old tree olive tree OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES orchard PALM TREE PHAËTHON Pine and Maple plant poplar quiver Rhocus river roots round sacred seed seemed shade shadow sigh silent Sing song Spare spring stood summer sunshine Surtur sweet thee thou thy leaves tremble trunk twig Uncle Nathan unto vine violin voice WASHINGTON ELM whispers wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH willow wind winter wonder wood woodman yellow youth
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Strana 73 - Then said all the trees unto the bramble, Come thou, and reign over us. And the bramble said unto the trees, If in truth ye anoint me king over you, then come and put your trust in my shadow : and if not, let fire come out of the bramble, and devour the cedars of Lebanon.
Strana 157 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from- Heaven Than when I was a boy.
Strana 149 - THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Strana 5 - Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived The generation born with them, nor seemed Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks Around them ; — and there have been holy men Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus. But let me often to these solitudes Retire, and in thy presence reassure My feeble virtue. Here its enemies, The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink And tremble and are still.
Strana 5 - Written on thy works I read The lesson of thy own eternity. Lo ! all grow old and die — but see again, How on the faltering footsteps of decay Youth presses — ever gay and beautiful youth In all its beautiful forms.
Strana 6 - ... on fire The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fill, With all the waters of the firmament, The swift, dark whirlwind that uproots the woods And drowns the villages; when, at thy call, Uprises the great Deep and throws himself Upon the continent, and overwhelms Its cities — who forgets not, at the sight Of these tremendous tokens of thy power, His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by I Oh, from these sterner aspects of thy face Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath Of the mad,...
Strana 109 - Down he hewed the boughs of cedar, Shaped them straightway to a framework, Like two bows he formed and shaped them Like two bended bows together. "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!
Strana 3 - The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Strana 77 - The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, the pine tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and I will make the place of my feet glorious.
Strana 3 - All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed His spirit with the thought of boundless power And inaccessible majesty. Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised ? Let me, at least, Here, in the shadow of this aged wood, Offer one hymn — thrice happy, if it find Acceptance in His ear. Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns, thou Didst weave this verdant roof.