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Page 106 - I do not know what I may appear to the world ; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Page 44 - bide my time" — But my heart will leap at a scene like this, And I half renew my prime. Play on ! play on ! I am with you there, In the midst of your merry ring ; I can feel the thrill of the daring jump, And the rush of the breathless swing. I hide with you in the fragrant hay, And I whoop the smothered call ; And my feet slip up on the seedy floor, And I care not for the fall.
Page 108 - THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Page 60 - MOTHER, mother, the winds are at play, Prithee, let me be idle to-day. Look, dear mother, the flowers all lie Languidly under the bright blue sky. See, how slowly the streamlet glides; Look, how the violet roguishly hides; Even the butterfly rests on the rose, And scarcely sips the sweets as he goes. Poor Tray is asleep in the noon-day sun, And the flies go about him one by one ; And pussy sits near with a sleepy grace, Without ever thinking of washing her face. There flies a bird to a...
Page 108 - Through glowing orchards forth they peep, Each from its nook of leaves, And fearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath their eaves.
Page 108 - O'er all the pleasant land! The deer across their greensward bound Through shade and sunny gleam; And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream. The merry homes of England! Around their hearths by night What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light! There woman's voice flows forth in song Or childhood's tale is told, Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page of old.
Page 44 - I LOVE to look on a scene like this, Of wild and careless play, And persuade myself that I am not old, And my locks are not yet gray ; For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart, And...
Page 60 - There flies a bird to a neighbouring tree, But very lazily flieth he, And he sits and twitters a gentle note, That scarcely ruffles his little throat. You bid me be busy; but, mother, hear How the hum-drum grasshopper soundeth near, And the soft west wind is so light in its play, It scarcely moves a leaf on the spray. I wish, oh, I wish I was yonder cloud, That sails about with its misty shroud; Books and work I no more should see, And I'd come and float, dear mother, o'er thee.
Page 108 - The merry homes of England! Around their hearths by night What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light ! There woman's voice flows forth in song, Or childhood's tale is told, Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page of old. The blessed homes of England...
Page 76 - I'VE watched you now a full half-hour Self-poised upon that yellow flower ; And, little butterfly ! indeed, I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless ! — not frozen seas More motionless ! and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again...