the floricultural cabinet

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第79页 - Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, All dyed with rainbow light ; All fashioned with supremest grace, Upspringing day and night ? Springing in valleys green and low, And on the mountains high, And in the silent wilderness, Where no man passes by ? Our outward life requires them not — Then wherefore had they birth ? To minister delight to man To beautify the earth. To comfort man — to whisper hope...
第113页 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...
第90页 - I know each lane, and every alley green, Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood, And every bosky bourn from side to side, My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood...
第194页 - Then," said the rose, with deepened glow, " On me another grace bestow." The spirit paused, in silent thought, — What grace was there that flower had not ? 'Twas but a moment, — o'er the rose A veil of moss the angel throws, And robed in nature's simplest weed. Could there a flower that rose exceed ? The Rose.
第88页 - Parian marble, walked in pairs, alone or in larger companies, the winged inhabitants; these from little dusky flies (for such only the naked eye would have shown them), were raised to glorious, glittering animals, stained with living purple, and with a glossy gold that would have made the labour of the loom contemptible in the comparison.
第202页 - Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, — the fairest flowers o...
第113页 - A wilderness of sweets : for nature here Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet, Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss.
第38页 - Now the glad earth her frozen zone unbinds, And o'er her bosom breathe the western winds. Already now the snow-drop dares appear, The first pale blossom of the unripened year ; As Flora's breath, by some transforming power, Had changed an icicle into a flower : Its name and hue the scentless plant retains, And winter lingers in its icy veins.
第194页 - The angel of the flowers one day Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay ; That spirit, to whose charge is given To bathe young buds in dews from heaven ; Awaking from his light repose, The angel whispered to the rose : ' O fondest object of my care, Still fairest found where all are fair, For the sweet shade thou 'st given to me, Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee.
第276页 - No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace, As I have seen in one autumnal face.

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