A Picture of the Seasons: With Anecdotes and Remarks on Every Month in the Year

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A. O'Neil, 1819 - 180 Seiten

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Seite 178 - With transport touches all the springs of life. Nature, attend! join every living soul, Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, In adoration join; and, ardent, raise One general song! To Him, ye vocal gales, Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness breathes: Oh, talk of Him in solitary glooms! Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar, Who shake the astonished world, lift high to heaven The impetuous song,...
Seite 180 - From seeming evil still educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progression. But I lose Myself in Him, in light ineffable ! Come, then, expressive Silence, muse His praise.
Seite 177 - And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks, And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves in hollow-whispering gales. Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined, And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
Seite 177 - And spreads a common feast for all that lives. In Winter awful thou ! with clouds and storms Around...
Seite 179 - Great source of day ! best image here below Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, From world to world, the vital ocean round, On nature write with every beam His praise. The thunder rolls ! be hush'd the prostrate world ! While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn.
Seite 180 - Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic isles, 'tis nought to me; Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full; And where he vital breathes, there must be joy.
Seite 179 - As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, Ye constellations, while your angels strike, Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. Great source of day! best image here below Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, From world to world, the vital ocean round, On Nature write with every beam His praise.
Seite 179 - Ye woodlands all, awake : a boundless song Burst from the groves ! and when the restless day, Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep, Sweetest of birds, sweet Philomela, charm The listening shades, and teach the night His praise.
Seite 13 - Tis brightness all ; save where the new snow melts Along the mazy current. Low the woods Bow their hoar head ; and ere the languid sun, Faint from the west, emits his evening ray, Earth's universal face, deep hid and chill, Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide The works of man.
Seite 153 - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground ; Another race the following spring supplies, They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay, So flourish these, when those are past away.

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