The Writings of John Burroughs: Pepacton

Εξώφυλλο
Houghton, Mifflin, & Company, 1895
 

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Σελίδα 85 - DUKE'S PALACE. [Enter DUKE, CURIO, LORDS; MUSICIANS attending.] DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Σελίδα 100 - Flight of fowl and habitude Of the tenants of the wood; How the tortoise bears his shell, How the woodchuck digs his cell, And the ground-mole sinks his well; How the robin feeds her young, How the oriole's nest is hung; Where the whitest lilies blow, Where the freshest berries grow, Where the ground-nut trails its vine, Where the wood-grape's clusters shine; Of the black wasp's cunning way, Mason of his walls of clay, And the architectural plans Of gray hornet artisans! For, eschewing books and...
Σελίδα 99 - Knowledge never learned of schools, Of the wild bee's morning chase, Of the wild flower's time and place, Flight of fowl and habitude Of the tenants of the wood...
Σελίδα 172 - When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men ; for thus sings he, Cuckoo ; Cuckoo, cuckoo...
Σελίδα 93 - And woods the bluebird's warble know, The yellow violet's modest bell Peeps from the last year's leaves below. Ere russet fields their green resume...
Σελίδα 168 - More, more, I prithee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs.
Σελίδα 107 - And bared the knotted column of his throat, The massive square of his heroic breast, And arms on which the standing muscle sloped, As slopes a wild brook o'er a little stone, Running too vehemently to break upon it.
Σελίδα 173 - The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And, for night-tapers, crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed, and to arise ; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes : Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
Σελίδα 97 - Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around ; "When even the deep blue heavens look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground ? There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren, And the gossip of swallows through all the sky; The ground-squirrel gayly chirps by his den, And the wilding bee hums merrily by.
Σελίδα 90 - Seldom seen by wishful eyes, But all her shows did Nature yield, To please and win this pilgrim wise. He saw the partridge drum in the woods; He heard the woodcock's evening hymn; He found the tawny thrushes...

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