Twenty lessons on British mosses

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Page 39 - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! * Each stamps its image as the other flies.
Page 19 - In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
Page 52 - twas mine to trace the hilly heath, And all the mossy moor that lies beneath : Here had I favourite stations, where I stood And heard the murmurs of the ocean-flood, With not a sound beside, except when flew Aloft the lapwing or the gray curlew, Who with wild notes my fancied power defied, And mock'd the dreams of solitary pride.
Page 39 - The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers, White o'er the linns the burnie pours, And rising, weets wi' misty showers The birks of Aberfeldy.
Page 56 - Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower. Nor can the...
Page 56 - Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood Rolls fair, and placid ; where collected all, In one impetuous torrent, down the steep It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round.
Page 21 - AMONG the dwellings framed by birds In field or forest with nice care, Is none that with the little Wren's In snugness may compare. No door the tenement requires, And seldom needs a laboured roof; Yet is it to the fiercest sun Impervious, and storm-proof. So warm, so beautiful withal, In perfect fitness for its aim, That to the Kind by special grace Their instinct surely came. And when for their abodes they seek An opportune recess, The hermit has no finer eye For shadowy quietness.
Page 19 - The violets of five seasons reappear And fade, unseen by any human eye; Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on For ever; and I saw the sparkling foam, And, with my cheek on one of those green stones That, fleeced with moss, beneath the shady trees Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep...
Page 37 - Th' illumined mountain, through the forest streams, Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mist, Far smoking o'er th' interminable plain, In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems. Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs around. Full swell the woods ; their every music wakes, Mix'd in wild concert with the warbling brooks...
Page 54 - Which strike ev'n eyes incurious ; but each moss, Each shell, each crawling insect holds a rank Important in the plan of Him, who fram'd This scale of beings ; holds a rank, which lost Would break the chain, and leave behind a gap Which nature's self would rue.

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