Pepacton

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David Douglas, 1884 - Всего страниц: 319

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Стр. 136 - As with his wings aslant, Sails the fierce cormorant, Seeking some rocky haunt With his prey laden, So toward the open main, Beating to sea again, Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden.
Стр. 233 - And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Стр. 232 - When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men ; for thus sings he, Cuckoo ; Cuckoo, cuckoo...
Стр. 121 - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting ° martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry ° that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty,° frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate.
Стр. 252 - And twinkle in the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
Стр. 119 - DUKE'S PALACE. [Enter DUKE, CURIO, LORDS; MUSICIANS attending.] DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Стр. 232 - The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it had its head bit off by its young.
Стр. 148 - To behold the day-break! The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate. Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising, freshly exuding, Scooting obliquely high and low. Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs, Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven.
Стр. 125 - Seldom seen by wishful eyes; But all her shows did Nature yield, To please and win this pilgrim wise. He saw the partridge drum in the woods; He heard the woodcock's evening hymn; He found the tawny thrushes...
Стр. 134 - The bluebird, shifting his light load of song From post to post along the cheerless fence...

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