Quotes About Nature

How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget his youthful spring?

When the stars threw down their spears And watered heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? - The Tyger

The busy bee has no time for sorrow.

Dip him in the river who loves water.

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey.

The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.

The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity, too great for the eye of man.

A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage.

The cut worm forgives the plow.

The nakedness of woman is the work of God.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile Make lame philosophy to smile. He who doubts from what he sees Will ne'er believe, do what you please. - Auguries of Innocence

The Lily of the valley, breathing in the humble grass Answer'd the lovely maid and said: I am a watry weed, And I am very small, and love to dwell in lowly vales; So weak, the gilded butterfly scarce perches on my head; Yet I am visited from heaven, and he that smiles on all Walks in the valley and each morn over me spreads his hand, Saying: 'Rejoice, thou humble grass, thou new-born lily flower

The modest Rose puts forth a Thorn. The humble Sheep a threat'ning Horn. While the Lily white shall in love delight. Nor a Thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

A flower was offered to me, Such a flower as May never bore; But I said I've a pretty rose tree, And I passed the sweet flower o'er. Then I went to my pretty rose tree, To tend her by day and by night; But my rose turned away with jealousy, And her thorns were my only delight.

And we are put on earth a little space, that we may learn to bear the beams of love; And these black bodies and this sunburnt face Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

And, father, how can I love you Or any of my brothers more? I love you like the little bird That picks up crumbs around the door.

The Holy Word That walk'd among the ancient trees, Calling the lapsèd soul, And weeping in the evening dew; That might control The starry pole, And fallen, fallen light renew!

They accumulate A world in which Man is by his nature the enemy of Man

Did he who made the lamb make thee?

The sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring To welcome the spring. The skylark and thrush, The birds of the bush, Sing louder around, To the bells' cheerful sound, While our sports shall be seen On the echoing green.

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way.

Great things are done when men and mountains meet; this is not done by jostling in the street.

Whate'er is born of mortal birth    Must be consumed with the earth