Quotes on Woodland

Tis a morning pure and sweet, And a dewy splendour falls On the little flower that clings To the turrets and the walls; 'Tis a morning pure and sweet, And the light and shadow fleet; She is walking in the meadow, And the woodland echo rings; In a moment we shall meet; She is singing in the meadow, And the rivulet at her feet Ripples on in light and shadow To the ballad that she sings.

The world of life, of spontaneity, the world of dawn and sunset and starlight, the world of soil and sunshine, of meadow and woodland, of hickory and oak and maple and hemlock and pineland forests, of wildlife dwelling around us, of the river and its wellbeing--all of this [is] the integral community in which we live.

Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow.

Its about cherishing the woodland at the bottom of your garden or the stream that runs through it. It affects every aspect of life.

The linden, in the fervors of July,_x000D_ _x000D_ Hums with a louder concert. When the wind_x000D_ _x000D_ Sweeps the broad forest in its summer prime,_x000D_ _x000D_ As when some master-hand exulting sweeps_x000D_ _x000D_ The keys of some great organ, ye give forth_x000D_ _x000D_ The music of the woodland depths, a hymn_x000D_ _x000D_ Of gladness and of thanks.

When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold, Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold; When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West, Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!

The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.

Sometimes by a woodland stream he watched the water rush over the pebbled bed, its tiny modulations of bounce and flow. A woman's body was like that. If you watched it carefully enough you could see how it moved to the rhythm of the world, the deep rhythm, the music below the music, the truth below the truth. He believed in this hidden truth the way other men believed in God or love, believed that truth was in fact always hidden, that the apparent, the overt, was invariably a kind of lie.