You May Also Like / View all maxioms
O thou who passest through our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
read more
O thou who passest through our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! Thou, O Summer,
Oft pitchest here thy golden tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.
Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.
O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
O for an iceberg or two at control!
read more
O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
O for an iceberg or two at control!
O for a vale that at midday the dew cumbers!
O for a pleasure trip up to the pole!
The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Lock Katrine blue,
Mildly and soft the western breeze
read more
The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Lock Katrine blue,
Mildly and soft the western breeze
Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees,
And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,
Trembled but dimpled not for joy.
But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,
The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
To closer read more
But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,
The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye gods! and is there no relief for love?
I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not read more
I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not reach
When all is summer there.
That beautiful season
. . . the Summer of All-Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy read more
That beautiful season
. . . the Summer of All-Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the
landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of York;
And all read more
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of York;
And all the clouds that lowered upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a
lodge in a garden read more
And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a
lodge in a garden of cucumbers, as a besieged city.