Lo, thro' her works gay nature grieves How brief she is and frail, As ever o'er the falling leaves Autumnal winds prevail. Yet still the philosophic mind Consolatory food can find, And hope her anchorage maintain: We never are deserted quite; 'Tis by succession of delight That love supports his reign.
The Autumn wood the aster knows, The empty nest, the wind that grieves, The sunlight breaking thro' the shade, The squirrel chattering overhead, The timid rabbits lighter tread Among the rustling leaves.dora read goodale
And as I played, a child came thro' the gate, A boy who looked at me without a word, As tho' he saw stretch far behind my head Long lines of radiant angels, row on row. That day we spoke a little, timidly, And after that I never heard the voice That sang so many songs for love of me.sara teasdale
Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, But looks thro' Nature, up to Nature's God.Alexander Pope
The Autumn wood the aster knows,The empty nest, the wind that grieves,The sunlight breaking thro' the shade,The squirrel chattering overhead,The timid rabbits lighter treadAmong the rustling leaves.dora read goodale
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee!william wordsworth
Sooth't were a pleasant life to lead, With nothing in the world to do But just to blow a shepherd's reed, The silent season thro' And just to drive a flock to feed, Sheep quiet, fond and few!samuel laman blanchard
Each window like a pill'ry appears, With heads thrust thro' nail'd by the ears.
The Autumn wood the aster knows, The empty nest, the wind that grieves, The sunlight breaking thro' the shade, The squirrel chattering overhead, The timid rabbits lighter tread Among the rustling leaves.
Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly, When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky; Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves, When thro' the clouds he drives the trembling doves.Alexander Pope
The great world's altar-stairs, that slope thro' darkness up to God.
Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow, Led thro' a sad variety of woe: Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom, Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!Alexander Pope
Abstruse and mystic thoughts you must express With painful care, but seeming easiness; For truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress.Wentworth Dillon
A love still burning upward, giving light To read those laws; an accent very low In blandishment, but a most silver flow Of subtle-paced counsel in distress. Right to the heart and brain, tho' undescried, Winning its way with extreme gentleness Thro' all the outworks of suspicious pride; A courage to endure and to obey: A hate of gossip parlance and of sway, Crown'd Isabel, thro' all her placid life, The queen of marriage, a most perfect wife.
But for you, it shall be forever Spring, And only you shall be forever fearless, And only you shall have white, straight, tireless limbs, And only you, where the water lily swims, Shall walk along pathways, thro' the willows Of your West. You who went West, And only you on silvery twilight pillows Shall take your rest In the soft, sweet glooms Of twilight rooms.
Or else flushed Ganymede, his rosy thigh Half buried in the Eagle's down, Sole as a flying star, shot thro' the sky, Above the pillared town.
The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs thro' the arched roof in words deceiving.john milton
The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound, Shall thro' the rending tombs rebound, And wake the nations under ground.Wentworth Dillon
Great things thro' greatest hazards are achiev'd, And then they shine.
Yet I doubt not thro' the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.
He open'd calm the universal cause,To give each realm its limit and its laws,Bid the last breath of tired contention cease,And bind all regions in the leagues of peace;Till one confederate, condependent swaySpread with the sun and bound the walks of day,One centred system, one all-ruling soulLive thro the parts and regulate the whole.joel barlow
With careless joy we thread the woodland ways And reach her broad domain. Thro' sense of strength and beauty, free as air. We feel our savage kin, And thus alone with conscious meaning wear The Indian's moccasin!
Thro' many dangers , toils and snares, I have already come; 'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home .
The Lotos blooms below the barren peak: The Lotos blooms by every winding creek: All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone: Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone, Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown.