The Story of the Hills: A Book about Mountains for General Readers

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Macmillan and Company, 1892 - 357 страница

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Страница 63 - While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, Whilst the landscape round it measures...
Страница 287 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story ; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Страница 126 - ... on the trembling stones, to teach them rest. No words, that I know of, will say what these mosses are. None are delicate enough, none perfect enough, none rich enough.
Страница 126 - When all other service is vain, from plant and tree, the soft mosses and grey lichen take up their watch by the headstone. The woods, the blossoms, the gift-bearing grasses, have done their parts for a time, but these do service for ever. Trees for the builder's yard, flowers for the bride's chamber, corn for the granary, moss for the grave.
Страница 126 - ... as if the Rock Spirits could spin porphyry as we do glass, — the traceries of intricate silver, and fringes of amber, lustrous, arborescent, burnished through every fibre into fitful brightness and glossy traverses of silken change, yet all subdued and pensive, and framed for simplest, sweetest offices of grace.
Страница 306 - AMONG the hours of his life to which the writer looks back with peculiar gratitude, as having been marked by more than ordinary fulness of joy or clearness of teaching, is one passed, now some years ago, near time of sunset, among the broken masses of pine forest which skirt the course of the Ain, above the village of Champagnole, in the Jura.
Страница 126 - Meek creatures ! the first mercy of the earth, veiling with hushed softness its dintless rocks ; creatures full of pity, covering with strange and tender honour the scarred disgrace of ruin,— laying quiet finger on the trembling stones, to teach them rest.
Страница 66 - As for the earth, out of it cometh bread: And underneath it is turned up as it were by fire. The stones thereof are the place of sapphires, And it hath dust of gold.
Страница 126 - Spirits could spin porphyry as we do grass, — the traceries of intricate silver and fringes of amber, lustrous, arborescent, burnished through every fibre into fitful brightness and glossy traverses of silken change, yet all subdued and pensive, and framed for simplest, sweetest offices of grace. They will not be gathered, like the flowers, for chaplet or love token ; but of these the wild bird will make its nest, and the wearied child his pillow.
Страница 63 - Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; Mountains, on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide ; Towers and battlements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some Beauty lies, The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.

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