This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1894 edition. Excerpt: ... SONGS OF NATURE AND THE BIRDS ON FIRST OBSERVING THE WILLOW WREN IN MIDWINTER ON THE PINCIAN HILL, IN ROME, DECEMBER 1842 Fa1r summer bird whose very name Was ever charm to me, And is it that this sunny land Is winter home to thee? Then will I feel it nearer home And love its beauty more; Then will I tread ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1894 edition. Excerpt: ... SONGS OF NATURE AND THE BIRDS ON FIRST OBSERVING THE WILLOW WREN IN MIDWINTER ON THE PINCIAN HILL, IN ROME, DECEMBER 1842 Fa1r summer bird whose very name Was ever charm to me, And is it that this sunny land Is winter home to thee? Then will I feel it nearer home And love its beauty more; Then will I tread more joyously Upon its golden shore; For thou hast been, thou loved one, The joy of early hours, The first proclaimer, soft one, Of spring's returning powers. Scarce has the yellow primrose seen The virgin snowdrop fade, The wild bee has not 'gun to taste The hawthorn's scented shade. Ere yet the swallow well has reached The land with weary wing, Thrice welcome is thy gentle voice, And all its whispers bring. It is a soft and gentle voice That cometh from above, A song that ever seemed to me The very voice of love. But few do know thee, gentle bird; Few, few have ever seen The soft-lined mansion thou dost build Low in the tufted green. Tis there, thy home, that shy retreat, And there the livelong day Thou pourest forth unceasingly Thine oft-repeated lay. 'Tis there, and in that stillest nook Of some light, budding bower, How often have I, musing, felt Thy most mysterious power. With others I may gladly hear The Blackbird's music float, Or pouring forth, the Missel Thrush, His loud, melodious note. With brothers and with friends I'll go Where many a varied voice Calls from each bush, and tree, and field, 'Rejoice with me, rejoice!' Yes, other warblers I can love With love that's all their own, But when to thee, dear bird, I list, I must be quite alone. It is not that the softest sound, --The rustling of a leaf, --Will break the whisp'rings of a song Already all too brief. It is that if we'd truly feel The music of the heart, Or have dim mem'ries.
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PLEASE NOTE, WE DO NOT SHIP TO DENMARK. New Book. Shipped from UK in 4 to 14 days. Established seller since 2000. Please note we cannot offer an expedited shipping service from the UK.