The Gypsy Trail: An Anthology for Campers, àÅèÁ·Õè 1

»¡Ë¹éÒ
M. Kennerley, 1914 - 397 ˹éÒ

¨Ò¡´éÒ¹ã¹Ë¹Ñ§Ê×Í

©ºÑºÍ×è¹æ - ´Ù·Ñé§ËÁ´

¤ÓáÅÐÇÅÕ·Õ辺ºèÍÂ

º·¤ÇÒÁ·Õèà»ç¹·Õè¹ÔÂÁ

˹éÒ 237 - Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander every where, Swifter than the moon's sphere ; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be : In their gold coats spots you see ; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours : I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
˹éÒ 356 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: "Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
˹éÒ 314 - See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song; Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business...
˹éÒ 312 - There was a time when meadow, grove and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
˹éÒ 8 - And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.
˹éÒ 345 - Soon as the evening shades prevail The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth ; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
˹éÒ 316 - What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction : not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest; Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast...
˹éÒ 48 - THEN the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said : Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up now thy loins like a man; For I will demand of thee and answer thou me.
˹éÒ 321 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock. The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
˹éÒ 346 - Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though, in solemn silence, all Move round the dark terrestrial ball; What though no real voice nor sound Amid their radiant orbs be found ; In reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice ; Forever singing as they shine, The hand that made us is divine.

ºÃóҹءÃÁ