Meehans' Monthly: A Magazine of Horticulture, Botany, and Kindred Subjects, Bind 5–6

Forsideomslag
Thomas Meehan & Sons, 1895
 

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Side 223 - TO him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Side 143 - It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word ; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure, Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
Side 78 - If thou art worn and hard beset With sorrows that thou wouldst forget, If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep, Go to the woods and hills ! — No tears Dim the sweet look that nature wears.
Side 162 - So, Lady Flora, take my lay. And if you find no moral there, Go, look in any glass and say, What moral is in being fair.
Side 158 - A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness — Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Side 178 - Which through the summer is not heard or seen. As if it could not be, as if it had not been! Thus let thy power, which like the truth Of nature on my passive youth Descended, to my onward life supply Its calm, — to one who worships thee, And every form containing thee.
Side 7 - Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright, As they were all alive with light; — And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks Of pigeons, settling on the rocks, With their rich restless wings, that gleam Variously in the crimson beam Of the warm west — as if inlaid With brilliants from the mine, or made Of tearless rainbows, such as span The unclouded skies of Peristan.
Side 7 - Then came old January, wrapped well In many weeds to keep the cold away; Yet did he quake and quiver, like to quell, And blowe his nayles to warme them if he may; For they were numbd with holding all the day An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray: Upon an huge great Earth-pot steane he stood, From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Romane Flood.
Side 198 - Give fools their gold, and knaves their power ; Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall ; Who sows a field, or trains a flower, Or plants a tree, is more than all. For he who blesses most is blest ; And God and man shall own his worth Who toils to leave as his bequest An added beauty to the earth.
Side 103 - And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers. The flush of life may well be seen Thrilling back over hills and valleys ; The cowslip startles in meadows green, The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace.

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