The Wild Flowers of California: Their Names, Haunts, and Habits

Couverture
Cunningham, Curtiss & Welch, 1906 - 417 pages
 

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Page 294 - So saying, on he led his radiant files, Dazzling the moon ; these to the bower direct In search of whom they sought; him there they found Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve...
Page 294 - As when a spark Lights on a heap of nitrous powder, laid Fit for the tun, some magazine to store Against a rumoured war, the smutty grain, With sudden blaze diffused, inflames the air ; So started up in his own shape the fiend.
Page 116 - And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers ; The flush of life may well be seen Thrilling back over hills and valleys ; The cowslip startles in meadows green, The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there 's never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace...
Page 375 - Tolerant plains, that suffer the sea and the rains and the sun, Ye spread and span like the catholic man who hath mightily won God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain.
Page 180 - What next? A tuft of evening primroses, O'er which the mind may hover till it dozes; O'er which it well might take a pleasant sleep, But that 'tis ever startled by the leap Of buds into ripe flowers...
Page 143 - As he proceeded he found the mustard thicker and thicker. The wild mustard in Southern California is like that spoken of in the New Testament, in the branches of which the birds of the air may rest. Coming up out of the earth, so slender a stem that dozens can find starting-point in an inch, it darts up, a slender straight shoot, five, ten, twenty feet, with hundreds of fine feathery branches locking and interlocking with all the other hundreds around it, till it is an inextricable network like lace....
Page iv - Yet fount of hope. Posthumous glories! angel-like collection ! Upraised from seed or bulb interred in earth, Ye are to me a type of resurrection, And second birth. Were I, O God, in churchless lands remaining, Far from all voice of teachers or divines. My soul would find in flowers of thy ordaining. Priests, sermons, shrines!
Page 356 - Yet these sweet sounds of the early season, And these fair sights of its sunny days, Are only sweet when we fondly listen, And only fair when we fondly gaze. There is no glory in star or blossom Till looked upon by a loving eye ; There is no fragrance in April breezes Till breathed with joy as they wander by.
Page 36 - Where, oh, where, shall he begin Who would paint thee, Harlequin ? With thy waxen burnished leaf, With thy branches' red relief, With thy polytinted fruit, — In thy spring or autumn suit, — Where begin, and oh, where end, Thou whose charms all art transcend...
Page 196 - Our outward life requires them not ; Then wherefore had they birth ? — To minister delight to man, To beautify the earth. To comfort man, — to whisper hope Whene'er his faith is dim ; For who so careth for the flowers Will much more care for him ! THE WOODLAND SANCTUARY.

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