Be like the bird who, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing she hath wings.
Quotes about boughs (16 Quotes)
All life is figured by them as a Tree. Igdrasil, the Ash-tree of existence, has its roots deep-down in the kingdoms of Death its trunk reaches up heaven-high, spreads its boughs over the whole Universe it is the Tree of Existence. At the foot of it, in the Death-Kingdom, sit the three Fates - the Past, Present and Future watering its roots from the Sacred Well. It's 'bough,' with their buddings and disleafings, - events, things suffered, things done, catastrophes, - stretch through all lands and times. Is not every leaf of it a biography, every fiber there an act or word Its boughs are the Histories of Nations. The rustle of it is the noise of Human Existence, onwards from of old.... I find no similitude so true as this of a Tree. Beautiful altogether beautiful and great.
A Birthday My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a watered shoot My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me. Raise me a dais of silk and down Hang it with vair and purple dyes Carve it in doves and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes Work it in gold and silver grapes, In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me.
Be like a bird That pausing in her flight Awhile on boughs to light, Feels them give way Beneath her and yet sings, Knowing that she hath wings.
The boughs that bear most hang lowest.
Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,
still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds.
When the sappy boughs Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments Of future harvest.
Misery assails riches, as lightning does the highest towers or as a tree that is heavy laden with fruit breaks its own boughs, so riches destroy the virtue of their possessor.
And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down As when a lordly cedar, green with boughs, Goes down with a great shout upon the hills, And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide.
A traitor is good fruit to hang from the boughs of the tree of liberty.
Boughs are daily rifled By the gusty thieves, And the book of Nature Getteth short of leaves.
Give me a land of boughs in leaf, A land of trees that stand Where trees are fallen there is grief I love no leafless land.
The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.
The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time If you have ever looked on better days, If ever been where bells knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be....