Quotes About Nature

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,Lest you should think he never could recaptureThe first fine careless rapture!

To me at least was never evening yet But seemed far beautifuller than its day.

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.

Setebos, Setebos, and Setebos!'Thinketh, He dwelleth i' the cold o' the moon.

Where the quiet-colored end of evening smiles.

Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:And straight was a path of gold for him,And the need of a world of men for me.

The sea heaves up, hangs loaded o'er the land, Breaks there, and buries its tumultuous strength.

Do I find love so full in my nature, God's ultimate gift,That I doubt his own love can compete with it?Here, the parts shift?

The year's at the springAnd day's at the morn;Morning's at seven;The hillside's dew-pearled;The lark's on the wing;The snail's on the thorn:God's in his heaven—All's right with the world.

In the morning of the world,When earth was nigher heaven than now.

Oh, to be in England now that April's there,And whoever wakes in England sees, some morning, unaware,That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheafRound the elm tree bole are in tiny leaf,While the chaffinch sings on the orchard boughIn England—now!

It was roses, roses all the way.

Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.

The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its best to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze up and all the cottage warm;

The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air.

Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.

Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire,That's a' the learning I desire.

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r,Thou's met me in an evil hour;For I maun crush amang the stoureThy slender stem:To spare thee now is past my pow'r,Thou bonie gem.

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,O, what a panic's in thy breastie!Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle!

The social, friendly, honest man,Whate'er he be,'Tis he fulfills great Nature's plan,And none but he!

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dearsHer noblest work she classes, O:Her prentice han' she tried on man,An' then she made the lasses, O.

But pleasures are like poppies spread—You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;Or like the snow falls in the river—A moment white—then melts forever.

O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad:Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad.

O, my Luve is like a red, red rose,That's newly sprung in June.O, my Luve is like the melodie,That's sweetly played in tune.