Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

Night wanes, curled

the vapors round the mountains | The sun had long since in the lap
Of Thetis taken out his nap,

Melt into morn, and light awakes the world.

[blocks in formation]

And, like a lobster boiled, the morn
From black to red began to turn.

Hudibras, Part II. Cant. ii.

DR. S. BUTLER,

[blocks in formation]

Behold him setting in his western skies,
The shadows lengthening as the vapors rise.

[blocks in formation]

Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day
Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray;
Nature in silence bid the world repose.

[blocks in formation]

Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues
With a new color as it gasps away,

The last still loveliest, till- 't is gone- and all
is gray.

Childe Harold, Cant. iv.

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

The Day is Done.

BYRON.

LONGFELLOW.

[blocks in formation]

A dewy freshness fills the silent air;

[blocks in formation]

No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor I see them on their winding way,

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

Above their ranks the moonbeams play.

And waving arms and banners bright Are glancing in the mellow light.

Lines written to a March.

The moon looks On many brooks,

MILTON.

BISHOP HEBER.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

That, as some did him love, so others did him Faerie Queene, Book vii.

fear.

Faerie Queene, Book vii.

SPENSER.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

FLOWERS.

W. C. BRYANT.

No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd,
No arborett with painted blossoms drest
And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd
To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels
al arownd.

[blocks in formation]

Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks
On whose fresh lap the swart-star sparely looks;
Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes,
That on the green turf suck the honied showers,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet,
The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine,
The glowing violet,
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears.

[blocks in formation]
« AnteriorContinuar »