The Language of Flowers, Or, Floral Emblems of Thoughts, Feelings, and SentimentsG. Routledge and sons, 1869 - Всего страниц: 223 |
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The Language of Flowers: Or, Floral Emblems of Thoughts, Feelings, and ... Robert Tyas Полный просмотр - 1875 |
The Language of Flowers, Or, Floral Emblems of Thoughts, Feelings, and ... Robert Tyas Полный просмотр - 1869 |
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Acanthus admired adorned agreeable Agrimony Almond Amaranth ancients ANEMONE appearance bear beauty BLACK POPLAR bloom blossoms blue border bower branches breath bright buds called Callimachus charms colour CORN POPPY covered Crocus crown cultivated Daisies decoration delicious delight Demophon DITTANY DOG ROSE earth fair fancy favourite Fern Field Flowers floral foliage fragrance fresh fruit garden gentle genus Godalming golden grace grass green grows GUELDER ROSE happiness Hawthorn heart indigenous Language of Flowers leaves light Lily lover meadows mind Miss Twamley Mistletoe MOSS ROSE Myrtle Narcissus native nature o'er odour ornamental pale perfume periwinkle petals plant pleasant pleasing pleasure poets POLIANTHES pretty purple regarded resemblance rich roots Rose says season seeds seems shade shrub Snowdrop sorrow speaks species Spring stem SUCCORY sweet thee thorns thou thought tree VENUS'S LOOKING-GLASS verdure Wall-flower whence wild winter Wordsworth yellow young youth
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Стр. 11 - The eternal regions. Lowly reverent Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground 350 With solemn adoration down they cast Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold : Immortal amarant, a flower which once In Paradise, fast by the Tree of Life, Began to bloom, but soon for Man's offence To Heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows And flowers aloft, shading the Fount of Life, And where the River of Bliss through midst of Heaven Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream.
Стр. 17 - The door I opened to my heavenly guest, And listened, for I thought I heard God's voice ; And, knowing whatsoe'er he sent was best, Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice. Then with a smile, that filled the house with light, "My errand is not Death, but Life," he said; And ere I answered, passing out of sight, On his celestial embassy he sped.
Стр. 102 - What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave: Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave. O happy love! where love like this is found! O heartfelt raptures! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare: — If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the...
Стр. 161 - What first inspired a bard of old to sing Narcissus pining o'er the untainted spring? In some delicious ramble, he had found A little space, with boughs all woven round ; And in the midst of all, a clearer pool Than e'er reflected in its pleasant cool, The blue sky here, and there, serenely peeping Through tendril wreaths fantastically creeping.
Стр. 181 - Whilst the lagging hours of the day went by Like windless clouds o'er a tender sky. And when evening descended from heaven above, And the Earth was all rest, and the air was all love, And delight, tho...
Стр. 22 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Стр. 71 - Tis Flora's page: — In every place, In every season, fresh and fair, It opens with perennial grace, And blossoms everywhere. On waste and woodland, rock and plain, Its humble buds unheeded rise; The Rose has but a summer reign, — The Daisy never dies.
Стр. 57 - O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down. And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Стр. 181 - But the Sensitive Plant which could give small fruit Of the love which it felt from the leaf to the root, Received more than all, it loved more than ever, Where none wanted but it, could belong to the giver...
Стр. 38 - And now, to issue from the glen, No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, Unless he climb, with footing nice, A far projecting precipice. The broom's tough roots his ladder made, The hazel saplings lent their aid...