The book of trees

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Side 9 - Embattled in her field; and the humble shrub, And bush with frizzled hair implicit: last Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemmed Their blossoms: with high woods the hills were crowned, With tufts the valleys and each fountain side: With borders long the rivers: that earth now Seemed like to heav'n, a seat where gods might dwell, Or wander with delight, and love to haunt Her sacred shades...
Side 9 - Joying to hear the birds' sweet harmony, Which therein shrouded from the tempest dread, Seem'd in their song to scorn the cruel sky. Much can they praise the trees so straight and high, The sailing Pine, the Cedar proud and tall, The vine-prop Elm, the Poplar never dry, The builder Oak, sole king of forests all, The Aspen good for staves, the Cypress funeral...
Side 146 - By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song ; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
Side 111 - Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good! Hail, ye plebeian under-wood ! Where the poetic birds rejoice, And for their quiet nests and plenteous food Pay, with their grateful voice. Hail, the poor Muses...
Side 192 - With boughs that quaked at every breath, Gray birch and aspen wept beneath ; Aloft, the ash and warrior oak Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; And, higher yet, the pine tree hung His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high, His boughs athwart the narrowed sky.
Side 182 - Behold, the Assyrian was a cedar in Lebanon with fair branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and of an high stature ; and his top was among the thick boughs.
Side 67 - While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Side 166 - And he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and your olive-yards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants.
Side 34 - No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar ; paler some, And of a wannish...
Side 166 - ... by; And each quick glistening of the laurel bower Wafts Grecian images o'er fancy's eye. But thou, pale Olive! in thy branches lie Far deeper spells than prophet-grove of old Might e'er enshrine. I could not hear thee sigh To the wind's faintest whisper, nor behold One shiver of thy leaves...

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