Woodnotes, for all seasons [an anthology].1842 |
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... Stormy Petrel Page Wordsworth 44 Friendship's Offering 46 Shrewsbury Chronicle 49 Time's Telescope 52 Bidlake 53 Cowper 55 The Nightingale Minstrelsy of the Woods 57 The Green Linnet The Flamingo The Owl The Blackbird The Stormy Petrel ...
... Stormy Petrel Page Wordsworth 44 Friendship's Offering 46 Shrewsbury Chronicle 49 Time's Telescope 52 Bidlake 53 Cowper 55 The Nightingale Minstrelsy of the Woods 57 The Green Linnet The Flamingo The Owl The Blackbird The Stormy Petrel ...
Страница 46
... stormy sky ! Speak , oh ! speak ! What crimsoned thy beak , And hung on the lids of thy staring eye ? " " Twas blood , ' twas blood ! And it rose like a flood , - And for this I scream'd , as I glided by ! " Owl ! that lovest the ...
... stormy sky ! Speak , oh ! speak ! What crimsoned thy beak , And hung on the lids of thy staring eye ? " " Twas blood , ' twas blood ! And it rose like a flood , - And for this I scream'd , as I glided by ! " Owl ! that lovest the ...
Страница 57
... STORMY PETREL . THE lark sings for joy on his own loved land , In the furrow'd fields , by the breezes fann'd ; And so revel we , In the furrow'd sea , As joyous and glad as the lark can be . On the placid breast of the inland lake The ...
... STORMY PETREL . THE lark sings for joy on his own loved land , In the furrow'd fields , by the breezes fann'd ; And so revel we , In the furrow'd sea , As joyous and glad as the lark can be . On the placid breast of the inland lake The ...
Страница 58
... Stormy Petrel was driven inland , and took shelter in a pigsty , in Wellington , Salop , where it was made captive , and remained for some time in the possession of the editor of this little work . It afforded him no little amusement ...
... Stormy Petrel was driven inland , and took shelter in a pigsty , in Wellington , Salop , where it was made captive , and remained for some time in the possession of the editor of this little work . It afforded him no little amusement ...
Страница 66
... enjoy ; Let love and song thy hours employ ! Go on , sweet bird , and soothe my care , Thy tuneful notes will hush despair . THE STORMY PETREL . Barry Cornwall . A THOUSAND miles 66 WOODNOTES . The Blackbird Mrs M'Lehose.
... enjoy ; Let love and song thy hours employ ! Go on , sweet bird , and soothe my care , Thy tuneful notes will hush despair . THE STORMY PETREL . Barry Cornwall . A THOUSAND miles 66 WOODNOTES . The Blackbird Mrs M'Lehose.
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art thou Barry Cornwall billow blest Blue Bird boughs bowers breast breeze bright brood Carrion Crow Charlotte Smith cheer cloud CUCKOO CURLEW dark delight dewy doth drest earth fair farewell feather'd flight flits flowers flutterer gale gentle gibbet glow GOLDFINCH green grove hail Hark hath hear heard heart heaven Horned Owl Linnet lonely love good morrow lovest minstrelsy morning mossy Neath nest night Nightingale noontide notes o'er PARROT pensive perch'd Petrel pinions plumage plumes Reckless thou rest rill ROBIN REDBREAST rock'd rude school-boy sequester'd shade sing skies Skylark soft song soothe sorrow soul spray spring stormy STORMY PETREL strain stream summer sunshine Swallow sweet bird tempests thee thine thou art Thou merry Lark thou shalt thrush thy wing tree vale vernal voice wandering warbling warm waves wild wind winter woods young
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Страница 101 - Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Страница 45 - Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery...
Страница 43 - Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud, Love gives it energy, love gave it birth, Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying ? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
Страница 25 - ... Most musical, most melancholy"* bird ! A melancholy bird? Oh! idle thought! In nature there is nothing melancholy. But some night-wandering man, whose heart was pierced With the remembrance of a grievous wrong, Or slow distemper, or neglected love, (And so, poor wretch ! filled all things with himself And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale Of his own sorrow) he, and such as he, First named these notes a melancholy strain : And many a poet echoes the conceit...
Страница 45 - To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen. And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again.
Страница 29 - A bird's nest. Mark it well ! — within, without ; No tool had he that wrought — no knife to cut, No nail to fix — no bodkin to insert — No glue to join ; his little beak was all. And yet how neatly finished ! What nice hand. With every implement and means of art, And twenty years...
Страница 44 - O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off, and near. Though babbling only to the Vale, Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice...
Страница 102 - Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere; Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Страница 11 - You think no doubt he sits and muses On future broken bones and bruises, If he should chance to fall ; No, not a single thought like that Employs his philosophic pate, Or troubles it at all.
Страница 120 - What time the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear; Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year ! Delightful visitant ! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet From birds among the bowers. The Schoolboy, wandering through the wood To pull the primrose gay, Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear, And imitates thy lay.