Meehans' Monthly: A Magazine of Horticulture, Botany and Kindred Subjects, 3. köide

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Thomas Meehan & Sons, 1893
 

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Page 190 - Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of angling as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries, " Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did ; " and so, if I might be judge, " God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
Page 126 - Ueber alien Gipfeln 1st Ruh, In alien Wipfeln Spiirest du Kaum einen Hauch ; Die Vogelein schweigen im Walde. Warte nur. balde Rubest du auch.
Page 103 - Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view : Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm; Others whose fruit, burnished with golden rind, Hung amiable — Hesperian fables true, If true, here only — and of delicious taste.
Page 163 - Each day I find new coverlids Tucked in, and more sweet eyes shut tight; Sometimes the viewless mother bids Her ferns kneel down full in my sight; I hear their chorus of" Good-night!" And half I smile and half I weep, Listening while they lie "down to sleep.
Page 83 - E'en now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, I sit me down a pensive hour to spend ; And placed on high, above the storm's career, Look downward where a hundred realms appear ; Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide, The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride.
Page 84 - HARK, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise; Arise, arise. FEAR no more the heat o...
Page 163 - November woods are bare and still ; November days are clear and bright; Each noon burns up the morning's chill; The morning's snow is gone by night. Each day my steps grow slow, grow light, As through the woods I reverent- creep, Watching all things lie "down to sleep.
Page 190 - On Christmas eve the bells were rung ; On Christmas eve the mass was sung : That only night in all the year, Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear...
Page 19 - In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast; In the spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest; In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
Page 110 - Thou shalt teach the ages, sturdy tree, Youth of soul is immortality. He who plants a tree, He plants love. Tents of coolness spreading out above Wayfarers he may not live to see. Gifts that grow are best; Hands that bless are blest; Plant: Life does the rest!

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