Walks After Wild Flowers, Or, The Botany of the Bohereens

John van Voorst, 1852 - 228 Seiten

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Seite 207 - kingdom of heaven is like unto a grain of mustard-seed which a man took and sowed in his field, which is, indeed, the least of all seeds ; but when it is grown it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof.
Seite 119 - To the ocean now I fly, And those happy climes that lie, Where day never shuts his eye; Up in the broad fields of the sky, There I suck the liquid air, All amidst the gardens fair, Of Hesperus and his daughters three, That
Seite 126 - there, with humid bow, Waters the odorous banks that blow Flowers of more mingled hue Than her purpled scarf can shew; And drenches with Elysian dew; (List, mortals, if your ears be true,) Beds of hyacinths and roses Where young Adonis oft reposes.
Seite 205 - Good Master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like Ox-beef, hath devoured many a gentleman of your house : I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now : I desire of you more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seed.
Seite 40 - Take thou this phial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off, When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize Each vital spirit, for no pulse shall keep His natural progress, but surcease to beat. No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st; The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall
Seite 40 - To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall Like death when he shuts up the day of life. Each part deprived of supple government, Shall stiff, and stark, and cold appear like death; And in this borrow'd likeness of
Seite 58 - broad, and brown below, Extensive harvests hang the heavy head. Rich, silent, deep, they stand : for, not a gale Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain: A calm of plenty; till the ruffled air Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow: Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky,
Seite 60 - For ever flashing round a Summer sky. , There eke the soft delights, that witchingly Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast; And the calm pleasures always hover'd nigh; But whatever smack'd of 'noyance or unrest, Was far, far off
Seite 227 - Like the citizen in Julius Caesar, it might say, if it could speak—" Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with awl." It has, in fact, only its name and its form, without a history of any economical kind whatever. We do, it is true, know of a certain

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