 Parian wreaths; A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate A tapering turret overtops the work. And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is all his own, retiring,...  Poems of Places: America - Page 52edited by - 1878Full view - About this book
 | Ralph Waldo Emerson - 1808 - 168 pages
...the farmer's lane from wall to wall, 20 Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate A tapering turret overtops the work. And when his hours are numbered,...not, Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art 25 To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, The frolic... | |
 | Margaret Fuller, Ralph Waldo Emerson, George Ripley - Transcendentalism - 1841 - 564 pages
...up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, Maugre the farmer's sighs, and at the gate A tapering turret overtops the work. And when his hours are numbered,...wind's night-work, The frolic architecture of the snow. * It would have been a convenience to the readers, if it had been stated in the preface, that the version... | |
 | Charles Fenno Hoffman, Lewis Gaylord Clark, Timothy Flint, Kinahan Cornwallis, John Holmes Agnew - American periodicals - 1841 - 564 pages
...the farmer's lane from wall to wall, Malgré the farmer's sighs, and at the gate A tapering turret overtops the work. And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is all his own, retiring, ae he were not, Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art To mimic in slow structure*, stone by... | |
 | Rufus Wilmot Griswold - American poetry - 1842 - 638 pages
...farmer's sighs, and at the gate A tapering turret overtops the work. And when his hours are number'd, and the world Is all his own, retiring, as he were not. Leaves, when the sun appears, astonish'd Art To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work.... | |
 | Lydia Maria Child - Biography & Autobiography - 1843 - 334 pages
...finest style imaginable ; throwing diamonds and ermine mantles around him with princely prodigality. " And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is...structures, stone by stone, Built in an age, the mad wind's night work, The frolic architecture of the snow." I had wealth of fairy splendour on my windows this... | |
 | Lydia Maria Child - New York (N.Y.) - 1845 - 310 pages
...finest style imaginable; throwing diamonds and ermine mantles around him, with princely prodigality. ' And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is...structures, stone by stone. Built in an age. the mad wind's night work ; The frolic architecture of the snow.' I had wealth of fairy splendour on my windows this... | |
 | Lydia Maria Child - New York (N.Y.) - 1845 - 294 pages
...finest style imaginable; throwing diamonds and ermine mantles around him, with princely prodigality. ' And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is...astonished Art To mimic, in slow structures, stone hy stone. Built in an age. the mad wind's night work ; The frolic architecture of the snow.' I had... | |
 | Lydia Maria Child - New York (N.Y.) - 1846 - 290 pages
...finest style imaginable; throwing diamonds, and ermine mantles around him, with princely prodigality. ' And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is all his own, retiring, as ho were not, Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art To mimic, in slow structures, stone by stone.... | |
 | Ralph Waldo Emerson - American poetry - 1847 - 244 pages
...up the fanner's lane from wall to wall, Maugre the farmer's sighs, and at the gate A tapering turret overtops the work. And when his hours are numbered,...wind's night-work, The frolic architecture of the snow. WOOD NOTES. L FOB this present, hard Is the fortune of the bard Born out of time; All his accomplishment... | |
 | Ralph Waldo Emerson - 1847 - 264 pages
...the farmer's lane from wall to wall, Maugre the farmer's sighs ; and, at the gate, A tapering turret overtops the work. And when his hours are numbered,...wind's night-work, The frolic architecture of the snow. WOODNOTES. I. 1. FOR this present, hard Is the fortune of the bard, Born out of time ; All his accomplishment,... | |
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