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Trees And Plants-Chestnut: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations

Birch. Betula. Rippling through thy branches goes the sunshine, Among thy leaves that palpitate forever, And in thee, a pining nymph had prisoned The soul, once of some tremulous inland river, Quivering to tell her woe, but ah! dumb, dumb forever.— LOWELL — The Birch Tree.

Cedar. Cedrus. O'er yon bare knoll the pointed cedar shadows Drowse on the crisp, gray moss.— LOWELL — An Indian-Summer Reverie.

Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle.— Shakespeare — Henry VI. Pt. III. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 11.

High on a hill a goodly Cedar grewe, Of wond'rous length and streight proportion, That farre abroad her daintie odours threwe; 'Mongst all the daughters of proud Libanon, Her match in beautie was not anie one.— SPENSER — Visions of the World's Vanitie. St. 7.

Cherry. Cerasus. Sweet is the air with the budding haws, and the valley stretching for miles below Is white with blossoming cherry-trees, as if just covered with lightest snow.— LONGFELLOW — Christus. Golden Legend. Pt. IV.

And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cowbind and the moonlight-colored May, And cherry blossoms, and white cups whose wine Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day.— SHELLEY — The Question. St. 3.

Chestnut. Castanea Vesca. When I see the chestnut letting All her lovely blossoms falter down, I think "Alas the day!" JEAN INGELOw-The Warbling of Blackbirds. The chestnuts, lavish of their long-hid gold, To the faint Summer, beggared now and old, Pour back the sunshine hoarded 'neath her favoring eye.— LOWELL — An Indian-Summer Reverie. St. 10.

Citron. Citrus Medica. Awake! the morning shines, and the fresh field Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed. How nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweet.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. V. L. 20.

Cocoanut. Cocos Nucifera. Oh, the green and the graceful-the cocoanut tree! The lone and the lofty-it loves like me The flash, the foam of the heaving sea, And the sound of the surging waves In the shore's unfathomed caves. With its stately shaft and its verdant crown, And its fruit in clusters drooping down.— FRANCES S. OSGOOD — The Cocoanut Tree.

Cypress. Cupressus. Dark tree! still sad when other's grief is fled, The only constant mourner o'er the dead. C.— BYRON — Giaour. L. 286.

Elder. Sambucus. O leave the elder-bloom, fair maids! And listen to my lay.— COLERIDGE — Introduction to the Tale of

the Dark Ladie. Elm. Ulmus. Under the cooling shadow of a stately Elm, Close sate I by a goodly River's side, Where gliding streams the rocks did overwhelm; A lonely place, with pleasure dignified. I once that loved the shady woods so well, Now thought the rivers did the trees excel, And if the sun would ever shine, there would I dwell.— ANNE BRADSTREET — Contemplations. St. 21.

And the great elms o'erhead Dark shadows wove on their aërial looms, Shot through with golden thread.— LONGFELLOW — Hawthorne. St. 2.

In crystal vapour everywhere Blue isles of heaven laughed between, And far, in forest-deeps unseen, The topmost elm-tree gather'd green From draughts of balmy air.— TENNYSON — Sir Launcelot and Queen

Fig. Ficus. Close by a rock, of less enormous height, Breaks the wild waves, and forms a dangerous strait; Full on its crown, a fig's green branches rise, And shoot a leafy forest to the skies.— HOMER — Odyssey. Bk. XII. L. 125.

Pope's trans. So counsel'd he, and both together went Into the thickest wood; there soon they chose The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renowned, But such as at this day to Indians known In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade High overarch'd, and echoing walks between.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. IX. L. 1,099.

Fir. Abies. A lonely fir-tree is standing On a northern barren height; It sleeps, and the ice and snow-drift Cast round it a garment of white.— HEINE — Book of Songs. Lyrical Interlude. No. 34.

I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky.— HOOD — I Remember, I Remember.

In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.— KEATS — Stanzas.

Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine, And sends a comfortable heat from far, Which might supply the sun.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. X. L. 1,076.

Hawthorn. Cratægus Oxyacanthus. The hawthorn I will pu' wi' its lock o' siller gray, Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day.— BURNS — O Live Will Venture In.

The hawthorn-trees blow in the dew of the morning.— BURNS — The Chevalier's Lament.

TREES AND PLANTS-HAWTHORN. TREES AND PLANTS-LILAC. Yet, all beneath the unrivall'd rose, The lowly daisy sweetly blows; Tho' large the forest's monarch throws His army shade, Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows, Adown the glade.— BURNS — The Vision. Duan II. St. 21.

Yet walk with me where hawthorns hide The wonders of the lane.— EBENEZER ELLIOTT — The Wonders of the Lane. L. 3.

The hawthorn-bush, with seats beneath the shade For talking age and whispering lovers made!— GOLDSMITH — The Deserted Village. L. 13.

And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.— MILTON — L'Allegro. L. 67.

Then sing by turns, by turns the Muses sing; Now hawthorns blossom.— POPE — Spring. L. 41.

Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade To shepherds looking on their silly sheep Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects' treachery?— Shakespeare — Henry VI. Pt. III. Act II. Sc. 5. L. 42.

The Hawthorn whitens; and the juicy Groves Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, Till the whole leafy Forest stands displayed, In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales.— THOMSON — Seasons. Spring. L.90.

Hemlock. Tsuga Canadensis. O hemlock-tree! O hemlock-tree! how faithful are thy branches! Green not alone in summer time, But in the winter's frost and rime! O hemlock-tree! O hemlock-tree! how faithful are thy branches!— LONGFELLOW — The Hemlock-Tree.

Hickory. Carya. Under the hickory-tree, Ben Bolt, Which stood at the foot of the hill, Together we've lain in the noonday shade, And listened to Appleton's mill. The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt, The rafters have tumbled in, And a quiet which crawls round the walls as you gaze Has followed the olden din.— THOS. DUNN ENGLISH — Ben Bolt.

Holly. Ilex. Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs Were twisted gracefu' round her brows, I took her for some Scottish Muse, By that same token, An' come to stop those reckless vows, Would soon be broken.— BURNS — The Vision. Duan I. St. 9.

Those hollies of themselves a shape As of an arbor took.— COLERIDGE — The Three Graves. Pt. IV. St. 24.

All green was vanished save of pine and yew, That still displayed their melancholy hue; Save the green holly with its berries red, And the green moss that o'er the gravel spread.— CRABBE — Tales of the Hall.

And as, when all the summer trees are seen So bright and green, The Holly leaves a sober hue display Less bright than they, But when the bare and wintry woods we see, What then so cheerful as the Holly-tree?— SOUTHEY — The Holly-Tree.

O Reader! hast thou ever stood to see The Holly-tree? The eye that contemplates it well perceives Its glossy leaves Ordered by an Intelligence so wise As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.— SOUTHEY — The Holly-Tree. St. 1.

Larch. Larix. I have look'd o'er the hills of the stormy north, And the larch has hung all his tassels forth.— MRS. HEMANS — The Voice of Spring.

Laurel. Laurus Nobilis. The laurel-tree grew large and strong, Its roots went searching deeply down; It split the marble walls of Wrong, And blossomed o'er the Despot's crown.— RICHARD HENGIST HORNE — The Laurel

Seed. Lilac. Syringa Vulgaris. The lilac spread Odorous essence.— JEAN INGELOW — Laurance. Pt. III.

I am thinking of the lilac-trees, That shook their purple plumes, And when the sash was open, Shed fragrance through the room.— MRS. ANNA S. STEPHENS — The Old

Apple-Tree. The purple clusters load the lilac-bushes.— S. AMELIA B. WELBY — Hopeless Love.