Christmas Blossoms, and New Year's Wreath

E.H. Butler, 1854

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Página 214 - The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Página 214 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Página 187 - It is finely conceived, for thus the " mortal shall put on immortality, and death be swallowed up in victory...
Página 250 - Tinksor, the present residence of the Sultan of Java. It is surrounded on all sides by a circle of high hills and mountains; and the country round it, to the distance of ten or twelve miles from the tree, is entirely barren. Not a tree, nor a shrub, nor even the least plant or grass is to be seen.
Página 251 - ... upon their dangerous expedition. Among other particulars, they are always told to attend to the direction of the winds ; as they are to go towards the tree before the wind, so that the effluvia from the tree is always blown from them.
Página 126 - We've ploughed our land, we've sown our seed, We've made all neat and gay ; So take a bit, and leave a bit, Away birds, away ! I looked over the hedge, and saw a little rustic lad apparently about seven years old, in his blue carter-frock, with a little bag hanging by his side, and his clapper in his hand. From ridge to ridge of a heavy ploughed field, and up and down its long furrows, he went wading in the deep soil, with a slow pace, singing his song with a melancholy voice, and sounding his clapper.
Página 110 - 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.
Página 169 - Why should we a minute despise, Because it so quickly is o'er ? We know that it rapidly flies, And therefore should prize it the more. Another, indeed, may appear in its stead, But that precious moment for ever is fled.
Página 252 - During that time, the ecclesiastic prepares them for their future fate by prayers and admonitions. When the hour of their departure arrives, the priest puts...
Página 253 - ... all I could learn from him, concerning the tree itself, was, that it stood on the border of a rivulet, as described by the old priest ; that it was of a middling size ; that five or six young trees of the same kind stood close by it ; but that no other shrub or plant could be seen near it ; and that the ground was of a brownish sand, full of stones, almost impracticable for travelling, and covered with dead bodies.

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