The Writings of John Burroughs: The breath of lifeHoughton, Mifflin and Company, 1895 - Natural history |
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Page 28
... heads are large , neck and legs short , and elbows sharp . The wild Irishman of them all is the great crested flycatcher , a large , leather - col- ored or sandy - complexioned bird that prowls through the woods , uttering its harsh ...
... heads are large , neck and legs short , and elbows sharp . The wild Irishman of them all is the great crested flycatcher , a large , leather - col- ored or sandy - complexioned bird that prowls through the woods , uttering its harsh ...
Page 32
... Head downward , clinging to the spray . " Here was this atom in full breath , Hurling defiance at vast death ; This scrap of valor just for play Fronts the north - wind in waistcoat gray , As if to shame my weak behavior ; I greeted ...
... Head downward , clinging to the spray . " Here was this atom in full breath , Hurling defiance at vast death ; This scrap of valor just for play Fronts the north - wind in waistcoat gray , As if to shame my weak behavior ; I greeted ...
Page 35
... heads the sullen clouds Scud black and swift across the sky ; Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds Stand out the white lighthouses high . Almost as far as eye can reach I see the close - reefed vessels fly , As fast we flit along the ...
... heads the sullen clouds Scud black and swift across the sky ; Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds Stand out the white lighthouses high . Almost as far as eye can reach I see the close - reefed vessels fly , As fast we flit along the ...
Page 42
... head of a savage and clap on the head of a fine gentleman , and the crab becomes a Swaar or a Baldwin . Or is it a kind of deception . practiced upon Nature , which succeeds only by be- ing carefully concealed ? If we could play the ...
... head of a savage and clap on the head of a fine gentleman , and the crab becomes a Swaar or a Baldwin . Or is it a kind of deception . practiced upon Nature , which succeeds only by be- ing carefully concealed ? If we could play the ...
Page 47
... head , being at the top of a twenty - foot ladder , and had nothing to say . The cotton was chewed and moistened about the edges till every fibre was loosened , when the mass dropped . But instantly the entrance was made smaller , and ...
... head , being at the top of a twenty - foot ladder , and had nothing to say . The cotton was chewed and moistened about the edges till every fibre was loosened , when the mass dropped . But instantly the entrance was made smaller , and ...
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Popular passages
Page 15 - Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home...
Page 22 - Thrice welcome, darling of the spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that cry Which made me look a thousand ways, In bush and tree and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen. And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again.
Page 110 - I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
Page 22 - The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen. And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again. O blessed Bird! the earth we pace Again appears to be An unsubstantial, faery place; That is fit home for Thee...
Page 14 - What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
Page 37 - And the thought of death close-walking the other side of me, And I in the middle as with companions, and as holding the hands of companions, I fled forth to the hiding receiving night that talks not, Down to the shores of the water, the path by the swamp in the dimness, To the solemn shadowy cedars and ghostly pines so still...
Page 23 - Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
Page 221 - Or, crown'd with attributes of woe Like glories, move his course, and show That life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom To shape and use. Arise and fly The reeling Faun, the sensual feast; Move upward, working out the beast, And let the ape and tiger die.
Page 221 - They say The solid earth whereon we tread In tracts of fluent heat began, And grew to seeming-random forms, The seeming prey of cyclic storms, Till at the last arose the man...
Page 6 - Less Philomel will deign a song In her sweetest saddest plight, Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke Gently o'er the accustomed oak; Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!