Proceedings: (1879), Volumen19

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Página 126 - White are his shoulders and white his crest.. Hear him call in his merry note : Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Look, what a nice new coat is mine, Sure there was never a bird so fine. Chee, chee, chee.
Página 137 - When icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Página 99 - Up and away for life! be fleet! — The frost-king ties my fumbling feet, Sings in my ears, my hands are stones, Curdles the blood to the marble bones, Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense, And hems in life with narrowing fence.
Página 30 - In all places, then, and in all seasons, Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, How akin they are to human things.
Página 99 - Flew near, with soft wing grazed my hand, Hopped on the bough, then, darting low, Prints his small impress on the snow, Shows feats of his gymnastic play Head downward, clinging to the spray. Here was this atom in full breath, Hurling defiance at vast death...
Página 68 - He stood a spell on one foot fust, Then stood a spell on t'other, An' on which one he felt the wust He couldn't ha
Página 78 - In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bore twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month : and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.
Página 75 - tis little joy To know I'm farther off from- Heaven Than when I was a boy.
Página 76 - E'er wore his crown as loftily as he Wears the green coronal of leaves with which Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower, With...
Página 137 - Tu-whit, tu-who ! a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit, tu-who...

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