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Araminta asked Aunt Matilda basket beautiful began Belinda beside better birds bloom blue boat Brown called cheerful cook cried dear delight early earth enjoy eyes face father fear feel felt field flowers garden give glad gown green grow hand happy head heart hens Honey hope hour I'se Judith knew lake leave lilies live looked lost Miss morning nature never night once opened path picked plants poor Presently Priscilla Priscilla Brown remember replied returned Rhoda roses rowed seeds seemed shining side smiled soft soon soul spirit spring sure sweet tell thank things thought told took tree turned violets wait walked Warren watched wish woman wonderful woods young
Page 280 - WHAT if some morning, when the stars were paling, And the dawn whitened, and the East was clear, Strange peace and rest fell on me from the presence Of a benignant Spirit standing near: And I should tell him, as he stood beside me, " This is our Earth — most friendly Earth, and fair; Daily its sea and shore through sun and shadow Faithful it turns, robed in its azure air : " There is blest living here, loving and serving, And quest of truth, and serene friendships dear; But stay not, Spirit! Earth...
Page 207 - ... Justice and saw in action his burning faith that the verities to which men had clung through the ages were verities ; that evil never could be good ; that falsehood was not truth, not even if all the ingenuity of science reiterated it in waves that encircled the earth. We have heard him say almost in the words of St. Paul, "Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are of good report — think on these things.
Page 403 - The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby Street Comes stealing ; comes creeping ; The poppies they hang from her head to her feet. And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet — She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet, When she findeth you sleeping ! There is one little dream of a beautiful drum —
Page 212 - The thrush's alone declares the immortal wealth and vigor that is in the forest. Here is a bird in whose strain the story is told.
Page 281 - There is blest living here, loving and serving, And quest of truth, and serene friendships dear: But stay not, Spirit! Earth has one destroyer — His name is Death: flee, lest he find thee here!" And what if then, while the still morning brightened, And freshened in the elm the summer's breath, Should gravely smile on me the gentle angel, And take my hand and say, " My name is Death
Page 5 - WHAT to a man who loves the air Are trinkets, gauds, and jewels rare? And what is wealth or fame to one Who is a brother to the sun; Who drinks the wine that morning spills Upon the heaven-kissing hills, And sees a ray of hope afar In every glimmer of a star? What to a man whose god is truth Are spoils and stratagems, forsooth — Who looks beyond the doors of death For loftier life, sublimer breath; Who can forswear the state of kings In knowledge of diviner things, The dreams immortal that unroll...
Page 3 - A garden is a beautiful book, writ by the finger of God ; every flower and every leaf is a letter. You have only to learn them — and he is a poor dunce that cannot, if he will, do that — to learn them and join them, and then to go on reading and reading, and you will find yourself carried away from the earth to the skies by the beautiful story you are going through.
Page 103 - A memory-haunted garden, out of life's busy way, Where the spell of vanished summers lingers the livelong day. " The hands that planted these flowers have mouldered back to dust, But their hearts are true and steadfast, and they seem to hold in trust The memories of the old time, and those whom men forget. Perhaps for the lilac and lily the dead are living yet. Those whom our eyes can...
Page 421 - BEYOND the gold-green lane the poppy garden Flutters and flaunts, like sunset seas aglow. The frosty, fuzzy stalks and blue leaf banners Ranging in row on row. Here are some multi-petaled, ruby crimson, Into a crumpled purple withering, Like tattered velvet old and dim and dusty Of a neglected king. Whiter are these than are the moon-white lilies; Censers that dainty fragrances exhale; Each, when the early sun fills with his ardor, Beams like a Holy Grail.