The Florist and Garden Miscellany, Band 3

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Chapman and Hall, 1851
 

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Seite 77 - Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength...
Seite 38 - Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, That fate is thine— no distant date; Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight, Shall be thy doom ! To Ruin ALL hail, inexorable lord ! At whose destruction-breathing word The mightiest empires fall!
Seite 38 - WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem. To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonie Lark, companion meet ! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
Seite 238 - Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Seite 147 - THEY tell us of an Indian tree, Which, howsoe'er the sun and sky May tempt its boughs to wander free, And shoot, and blossom, wide and high, Far better loves to bend its arms Downward again to that dear earth, From which the life, that fills and warms Its grateful being, first had birth. 'Tis thus, though woo'd by flattering friends, And fed with fame (if fame it be) This heart, my own dear mother, bends, With love's true instinct, back to thee ! LOVE AND HYMEN.
Seite 103 - COME, gentle SPRING, ethereal Mildness, come, And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, While music wakes around, veiled in a shower Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.
Seite 77 - Here's flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, And with him rises weeping...
Seite 219 - Each cup a pulpit, and each leaf a book, Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers From loneliest nook. Floral apostles ! that, in dewy splendour, " Weep without woe, and blush without a crime...
Seite 98 - Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.
Seite 190 - It is the very emblem of a maid : For when the west wind courts her gently, How modestly she blows, and paints the sun With her chaste blushes ! when the north, comes near her, Rude and impatient, then, like chastity, She locks her beauties in her bud again, And leaves him to base briars.

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