Words When violets were springing And sunshine filled the day, And happy birds were singing The praises of the May, A word came to me, blighting The beauty of the scene, And in my heart was winter, Though all the trees were green.
Footnote 4: --singing--that he may hide his agitation, restrain himself, and be regarded as careless-mad, until all are safely gone.
and Number.life; music and ---------Nature -----------singing; industrial----------------------- Wednesdaychart Reading activities such as Excursion or handwork.
The fellow burst out singing-- "J'ai du bon tabac Dans ma tabatiere."
Her voice hushed itself into silence and again Lenox Hildreth heard the soft waves singing,-- "Forever!
With their butterflies and flowers, And the birds among the bowers Sweetly singing;-- With the spices from the trees, Vines, and lilies, while the bees Come floating on the breeze, Honey bringing!
Hear the winds singing:-- "Heaven comes down.
Upon which Toad-in-the-hole, that cursed interrupter, broke out a-singing--"Et interrogatum est a Toad-in-the-hole--Ubi est ille exercitus?
"Some of my friends," she said, "were very anxious I should teach singing,--I had such a delicious voice, which had been so well cultivated.
The gush and babble of the bright water tumbling in, rushing out, filled the air singingly.
Mary Carolyn Davies Autumn in Oregon is wet as Spring, And green, with little singings in the grass, And pheasants flying, Gold, green and red, Great, narrow, lovely things, As if an orchid had snatched wings.
Dravot up and dances in front of them, singing--'Sell me four mules.'
The inspiring chants of Ambrose gave place to gloomy and monotonous antiphonal singing,--that is, when the monks confined themselves to their dismal vocation.
Not but I received some very affecting impressions from some things which I heard that day; but the standing up and the sitting down of the people; the organ; the singing;--the way of all these things took up more of my attention than was proper; or I thought it did.
In the very silence of his home one hears a singing--'There lies the happiest land.'
Anything intense or prodigal in nature, any splendidly fluent outpouring of the elements,--the fierce life of streaming fire, water in gliding or tumultuous masses, the vivid gold of crocus and daffodil spouting up through the earth in spring, the exquisite liquidity of a bird singing,--these, as with all elemental poetic natures, gave her the same keen joy which we fable for those who, in the intense morning of the world, first heard them; fable, indeed, for why should we suppose that because ears deaf a thousand years heard the nightingale too, it should therefore be less new for those who to-night hear it for the first time?
Thus there is little or no difference in figure between understanding a thing and getting on to it; between averting something (turning it aside) and sidetracking it; between excluding (shutting out) and closing the door to; between degrading (putting down a step) and taking down a notch; between accumulating (heaping up) and making one's pile; between taking umbrage (the shadow) and being thrown in the shade; between ejaculating and throwing out a remark; between being on a tension and being highstrung; between being vapid and having lost steam; between insinuating (winding in) and worming in; between investigating and tracking; between instigating (goading on or into) and prodding up; between being incensed (compare incendiary) and burning with indignation; between recanting (unsinging) and singing another tune; between ruminating (chewing) and smoking in one's pipe.
Each was expressing itself in its own way,--singing its own song, and making its own peculiar gestures,--manifesting a richness of variety to be found in no other forest I have yet seen.
The Benedictines retained their original organization, they were bound by the same vows (as individuals, the monks were always poor), they wore the same dress, as they did centuries before, and they did not fail in their duties in the choir,--singing their mournful chants from two o'clock in the morning.
One of those that just go right on, do their own work and everybody else's, killing themselves inch by inch without ever thinking about it,--singing and dancing at their toil when they begin, worn and saddened after a while, but pressing steadily on, tottering by-and-by, and catching at the rail by the wayside to help them lift one foot before the other, and at last falling, face down, arms stretched forward---- Philip, my boy, do you know I am the sort of man that locks his door sometimes and cries his heart out of his eyes,--that can sob like a woman and not be ashamed of it?
Did he think that she could go on indefinitely parading a parlor accomplishment for his society friends,--singing nice little English songs for Wallace Hood?
said Jocunda,--"to be sure I have,--singing enough to draw the very heart out of your body,--it's an old trick they have.