Quotes About Nature

Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at its play -- In accidental power -- The blonde Assassin passes on -- The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day For an Approving God.

These are the days when birds come back, a very few, a Bird or two, to take a backward look.

A Bird came down the Walk – He did not know I saw – He bit an Angleworm in halves And ate the fellow, raw, And then he drank a Dew From a convenient Grass – And then hopped sidewise to the Wall To let a Beetle pass – ...

Could you tell me how to grow--or is it unconveyed--like Melody--or Witchcraft?

Have you got a brook in your little heart, Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drink, And shadows tremble so?

It's all i have to bring today this and my heart beside this and my heart and all the fields and all the meadows wide be sure to count should i forget someone the sum could tell this and my heart and all the bees which in the clovers dwell

Look back on Time, with kindly eyes - He doubtless did his best - How softly sinks that trembling sun In Human Nature's West -

We do not play on Graves— Because there isn't Room— Besides—it isn't even—it slants And People come— And put a Flower on it— And hang their faces so— We're fearing that their Hearts will drop— And crush our pretty play— And so we move as far As Enemies—away— Just looking round to see how far It is—Occasionally—

They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the lune A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless grass, No eye could find the place; But God on his repealless list Can summon every face

The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done— Sits shyly at his feet— He—waking—finds the flower there— Wherefore—Marauder—art thou here? Because, Sir, love is sweet! We are the flower—Thou the Sun! Forgive us, if as days decline— We nearer steal to thee! Enamored of the parting West— The peace—the flight—the Amethyst— Night's possibility!

You will forgive me, for I never visit. I am from the fields, you know, and while quite at home with the Dandelion, make but sorry figure in a Drawing -- room -- Did you ask me out with a bunch of Daisies, I should thank you, and accept --

Did the harebell loose her girdle To the lover bee, Would the bee the harebell hallow Much as formerly?

The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride, Night unto day is married, morn unto eventide, Earth a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true, And Earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue.

Whose fingers string the stalactite- Who counts the Wampum of the night

There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin, Never mind silent fields - Here is a little forest, Whose leaf is ever green; Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been; In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum: Prithee, my brother, Into my garden come!

The career of flowers differs from ours only in inaudibleness. I feel more reverence as I grow for these mute creatures whose suspense or transport may surpass my own.

Look back on time with kindly eyes, He doubtless did his best; How softly sinks his trembling sun In human nature's west!

We all have moments with the dust, but the dew is given.

Summer-we all have seen- A few of us-believed- A few the more aspiring Unquestionably loves... .

Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true

One note from one bird is better than a million words...

This was in the white of the year, That was in the green, Drifts were as difficult then to think As daisies now to be seen. Looking back is best that is left, Or if it be before, Retrospection is prospect's half, Sometimes almost more.

And so, as kinsmen met a-night, We talked between the rooms, Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names.

Since I have no sweet flower to send you, I enclose my heart; a little one, sunburnt, half broken sometimes, yet close as the spaniel, to it's friends