Identifier: cu31924067841605 (find matches)
Title: Flowers from sunlight and shade
Year: 1888 (1880s)
Authors: Skelding, Susie Barstow
Subjects: Flowers in literature
Publisher: New York, White, Stokes & Allen
Contributing Library: Cornell University Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

View Book Page: Book Viewer
About This Book: Catalog Entry
View All Images: All Images From Book
Click here to view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book.

Text Appearing Before Image:
ingering still for the sunset hour, A charm for the shaded eve. Mrs. Hemans. BRIDGES AND WINGS. Each song I send thee is a bridge, Built by thy happy lover,—A golden bridge, by which my love To thee, sweet child, comes over. And all my dreams have angel-wings.Made up of smiles and sighing ; Lighter thaA air, on which my loveTo thee, dear heart, comes flying. —From £xoius. Translated by James Freeman Clarke, 7° FERNS. What though no gaudy hue attract the eye,Endowd with form of justest symmetry,The breeze of spring no lovlier thing hath fannd.Than the Hght foHage of the feathery bandOf ferns; who crowd the heath, or deep recessOf many a grove and tangled wilderness,With their green vases; formd to vie with thoseWhich Grecian art, fond and exulting choseTo crown the graceful pillar ;—and to me.Far-famed Acanthus, not less fair than thee(Such as I know thee, sculptured with nice hand),Rise the slight fern-plants of my native land. Eleanor Henslow. MOSS ROSES AND FORGET-ME-NOTS. n
Text Appearing After Image:
/^ ly^fiat^ jl^l-.. A^i^r^ Atiy)l.ai!^ -i^A-AH^/C^^A^ .^iiU.^ ^ V --^ . ^ ^^ » yd-e^-^e-i^^ >;fe- jp^-^ ,=V«^ i-^ ia-<-y /^ THE MOSS ROSE. The Angel of the flowers one day,Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay ;That Spirit to whose charge tis givenTo bathe young buds in dews of heaven ;—Awakening from his light repose,The Angel whispered to the Rose : O fondest object of my care,Still fairest found, where all are fair ;For the sweet shade thou givst to me.Ask what thou wilt, tis granted thee ! Then said the Rose, with deepened glow, On me another grace bestow.The Spirit paused in silent thought,—What grace was there that flower had not ?Twas but a moment—oer the RoseA veil of moss the Angel throws,And, robed in natures simplest weed.Could there a flower that Rose exceed ? ■—From the German of Krummacher. \Vhen I send thee a red, red rose,—The sweetest flower on earth that grows ! Think, dear heart, how I love thee;

Note About Images