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Tag Name "Bower" (14)

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She padded toward Han, barefoot, like a faerie startled out of a forest bower, bewitching mix of clan and flatland beauty.
Cinda Williams Chima
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Oh, sweet thy current by town and by tower, The green sunny vale and the dark linden bower Thy waves as they dimple smile back on the plain, And Rhine, ancient river, thou'rt German again!
Horace Binney Wallace
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But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?
J. R. R. Tolkien
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O happy childhood! blessed youth! But once we know thy potent power But once we live all careless free No cross to mar our love-lit bower.
Pablo Neruda
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Sovereign of beauty, like the spray she growsCompass'd she is with thorns and canker'd bower.Yet, were she willing to be pluck'd and worn,She would be gather'd, though she grew on thorn.
Robert Greene
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The moon, like a flower in heaven's high bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.
William Blake
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Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
William Wordsworth
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Awake thee, my Lady-Love! Wake thee, and rise! The sun through the bower peeps Into thine eyes.
George Darley
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E'en Beauty mourns in her decaying bower, That Time upon her angel brow should set His crooked autograph, and mar the jet Of glossy locks. Lo! how her chaplet green, The hoar frost and the canker worm destroy. Decay's dull film obscures those matchless eyes.
Isaac McLellan
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On turf and curb and bower-roof The snow-storm spreads its ivory woof It paves with pearl the garden-walk And lovingly around the tatter'd stalk And snivering stem its magic weaves A mantle fair as lily-leaves.
John Townsend Trowbridge
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Sap which mounts, and flowers which thrust, Your childhood is a bower: Let my fingers wander in the moss Where glows the rosebud Let me among the clean grasses Drink the drops of dew Which sprinkle the tender flower
Paul Verlaine
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Here eglantine embalm'd the air, Hawthorne and hazel mingled there The primrose pale, and violet flower, Found in each cliff a narrow bower Fox-glove and nightshade, side by side, Emblems of punishment and pride, Group'd their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain.
Walter Scott
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Thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, With ravishing division, to her lute.
William Shakespeare
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When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country--am I to be blamed?
William Wordsworth