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Page 101 - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting ° martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry ° that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty,° frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate.
Page 99 - 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.
Page 114 - Flight of fowl and habitude Of the tenants of the wood; How the tortoise bears his shell, How the woodchuck digs his cell, And the ground-mole sinks his well; How the robin feeds her young, How the oriole's nest is hung; Where the whitest lilies blow, Where the freshest berries grow, Where the ground-nut trails its vine, Where the wood-grape's clusters shine; Of the black wasp's cunning way, Mason of his walls of clay, And the architectural plans Of gray hornet artisans!
Page 210 - WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
Page 191 - The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it had its head bit off by its young.
Page 187 - More, more, I prithee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs.
Page 104 - Seldom seen by wishful eyes; But all her shows did Nature yield, To please and win this pilgrim wise. He saw the partridge drum in the woods; He heard the woodcock's evening hymn; He found the tawny thrushes...
Page 89 - Yet he seems to have known that bees sometimes escaped to the woods: — "Nor bees are lodged in hives alone, but found In chambers of their own beneath the ground: Their vaulted roofs are hung in pumices, And in the rotten trunks of hollow trees.