A Natural History Reader for School and Home

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D. Appleton, 1883 - 414 pages
 

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Page 77 - And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, And is safe when the wrathful spirit of storms Has made the top of the wave his own...
Page 2 - Ah, why • Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised ? Let me, at least, Here, in the shadow of this aged wood, Offer one hymn — thrice happy, if it find Acceptance in His ear.
Page 190 - MERRILY swinging on brier and weed, Near to the nest of his little dame, Over the mountain-side or mead, Robert of Lincoln is telling his name : Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Snug and safe is that nest of ours, Hidden among the summer flowers. Chee, chee, chee.
Page 52 - ... and the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue, which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew of music so delicate, soft, and intense, it was felt like an odour within the sense...
Page 193 - Off is his holiday garment laid. Half forgotten that merry air : Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink, Nobody knows but my mate and I Where our nest and our nestlings lie, Chee, chee, chee.
Page 1 - Which, from the stilly twilight of the place, And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound Of the invisible breath that swayed at once All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed His spirit with the thought of boundless power 18 And inaccessible majesty. Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised?
Page 52 - A SENSITIVE Plant in a garden grew, •^^ And the young winds fed it with silver dew, And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light, And closed them beneath the kisses of night.
Page 119 - Sailor of the atmosphere, Swimmer through the waves of air. Voyager of light and noon, Epicurean of June, Wait, I prithee, till I come Within earshot of thy hum, — All without is martyrdom. When the south wind, in May days, With a net of shining haze Silvers the horizon wall ; And, with softness touching all. Tints the human countenance With...
Page 242 - Brown, I'm amazed You should be so gone crazed As to put up a bird In that posture absurd ! To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness : The man who stuffed him don't half know his business!
Page 53 - Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky ; And the jessamine faint, and the sweet tuberose. The sweetest flower for scent that blows ; And all rare blossoms from every clime Grew in that garden in perfect prime.

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