Què opinen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
appear bear beautiful beneath birds bloom blows bound branches breaſt breath bright burſts buſy cheerful clear clouds cold death deep delight deſcend diſtant dread earth ev'ry eyes fair fall fame father fear fields firſt flocks flood flower follow fruits gale glory golden green ground groves grow hand hare head hear heart hill hour ITALY kiſs land leaves lies light live looks mind morn mount mountains nature never night notes o'er o’er once plain play poor pride rage returning riſe rocks roll ſcene ſeen ſhade ſhall ſhining ſhore ſkies ſky ſleep ſmiling ſnow ſome ſound ſpread ſpring ſtill ſtore ſtorms ſtream ſuch ſun ſweet ſwell tear thee Theſe thou thro tide train trees trembling vale walk waſte waters waves Whoſe wide wild winds wings Winter woods young youth
Pàgina 141 - But who the melodies of morn can tell ? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side : The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean tide ; The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
Pàgina 22 - HAPPY the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground ; Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in Summer yield him shade, In Winter fire.
Pàgina 88 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
Pàgina 32 - You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man ; Now tell me the reason, I pray. In the days of my youth...
Pàgina 73 - While, lightly poised, the scaly brood In myriads cleave thy crystal flood ; The springing trout in speckled pride, The salmon, monarch of the tide ; The ruthless pike, intent on war, The silver eel, and mottled par. Devolving from thy parent lake, A charming maze thy waters make, By bowers of birch and groves of pine, And hedges flower'd with eglantine.
Pàgina 107 - While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Pàgina 59 - Ye mute Companions of my Toils, that bear In all my Griefs a more than equal Share!
Pàgina 62 - By wintry famine rous'd, from all the tract Of horrid mountains which the shining Alps, And wavy Apennine, and Pyrenees, Branch out stupendous into distant lands; Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave; Burning for blood; bony, and gaunt, and grim. Assembling wolves in raging troops descend; And, pouring o'er the country, bear along, Keen as the north wind sweeps the glossy snow. All is their prize.
Pàgina 22 - ... shade. In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away. In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Together mixt; sweet recreation: And innocence, which most does please With meditation.