Thoughts in My Garden, Том 2Richard Bentley and sons, 1880 |
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admirable amused April Auberon Herbert beauty bees believe birds Burnham Beeches called Catullus charming Church Coleridge colour cottage course creatures curious dear delight dinner Disraeli divine doubtless editor England English essay fashion fellow flowers garden genius gentleman George Gilbert White girls Greek Homer Homeric Hymn Horace human idea insects James Dobson King Latin lawn letters libelled ladies literary literature live Loiterer London look Lord ment modern Mortimer Collins never nightingale novels parish perchance pleasant poem poet poetic poetry poor publishers quote rats reader remarked rhyme robin seems Shakespeare singing Sir John Lubbock Sir Robert Carden Skye terrier song Spiritualist summer talk thing thou thought three volume novel thrushes tortoise trees true verse walked Warwick Castle weather wine wise wonder worth write written young ladies
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Стр. 43 - It ceased ; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, — A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Стр. 6 - To view the structure of that little work 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...
Стр. 43 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Стр. 267 - Because thou art virtuous, shall there be no more cakes and ale...
Стр. 245 - Warwick in blood did wade, Oxford the foe invade, And cruel slaughter made Still as they ran up: Suffolk his axe did ply, Beaumont and Willoughby Bare them right doughtily, Ferrers and Fanhope. Upon Saint Crispin's day...
Стр. 79 - Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge- — That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
Стр. 43 - The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free ; We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea...
Стр. 102 - God in that state of life unto which it has pleased God to call him.
Стр. 244 - Have ever to the sun By fame been raised. "And for myself (quoth he) This my full rest shall be: England ne'er mourn for me...
Стр. 206 - How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.