Wild Flowers, Volume 2

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Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1853
 

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Page 51 - Not higher than a two-years' child, It stands erect this aged thorn; No leaves it has, no thorny points; It is a mass of knotted joints, A wretched thing forlorn. It stands erect, and like a stone With lichens it is overgrown.
Page 130 - Our outward life requires them not ; Then wherefore had they birth ? — To minister delight to man, To beautify the earth. To comfort man, — to whisper hope Whene'er his faith is dim ; For who so careth for the flowers Will much more care for him ! THE WOODLAND SANCTUARY.
Page 131 - ... my untainted ears When birds and flowers and I were happy peers. How like a prodigal doth nature seem, When thou, for all thy gold, so common art! Thou teachest me to deem More sacredly of every human heart, Since each reflects in joy its scanty gleam Of heaven, and could some wondrous secret show, Did we but pay the love we owe, And with a child's undoubting wisdom look On all these living pages of God's book.
Page 120 - My childhood's earliest thoughts are linked with thee ; The sight of thee calls back the robin's song, Who from the dark old tree Beside the door, sang clearly all day long, And I, secure in childish piety, Listened as if I heard an angel sing With news from Heaven, which he did bring Fresh every day to my untainted ears, When birds and flowers and I were happy peers.
Page 166 - Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?— God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
Page 73 - He is come, Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs, And bearing on their fragrance ; and he brings Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs, And sound of swaying branches, and the voice Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs Are stirring in his breath; a thousand flowers, By the road-side and the borders of the brook, Nod...
Page 175 - Old customs ! Oh ! I love the sound, However simple they may be ; Whate'er with time hath sanction found, Is welcome, and is dear to me, Pride grows above simplicity, And spurns them from her haughty mind ; And soon the poet's song will be The only refuge they can find.
Page 20 - THUS, thus begin, the yearly rites Are due to Pan on these bright nights ; His morn now riseth, and invites To sports, to dances and delights : All envious and profane, away, This is the shepherd's holiday.
Page 17 - And oft in pleasure's dream they hie Round homesteads by the village side, Scratching the hedge-row mosses by, Where painted pooty shells abide ; Mistaking oft the ivy spray For leaves that come with budding spring, And wondering, in their search for play, Why birds delay to build and sing.
Page 29 - When .blossoms clothe the trees, How sweet to throw the lattice up. And scent thee on the breeze. The butterfly is then abroad, The bee is on the wing, And on the hawthorn by the road The linnets sit and sing.

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