Page:Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922).djvu/851

 TREES TREES

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. George P. Morris—Woodman, Spare That Tree. | seealso = (See also {{sc|Campbell) n When the sappy boughs Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments Of future harvest. John Phillips—Cider. Bk. II. L. 437. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = Grove nods at grove. | author = Pope | work = Moral Essays. Ep. IV. L. 117. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = Spreading himself like a green bay-tree. Psalms. XXXVII. 35. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = The highest and most lofty trees have the most reason to dread the thunder. Rolllv—Ancient History. Bk. VI. Ch. II. Sec. I. Stultus est qui fructus magnarum arborum spectat, altitudmem non metitur. He is a fool who looks at the fruit of lofty trees, but does not measure their height. Quintus Curtids Rufus—De Rebus Gestis Alexandri Magni. VII. 8. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = So bright in death I used to say. So beautiful through frost and cold! A lovelier thing I know to-day, The leaf is growing old, And wears in grace of duty done, The gold and scarlet of the sun. Margaret E. Sangster—A Maple Leaf. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? As You Like It. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 2. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossom yield In'lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. As You Like It. Act II. Sc. 3. L. 63. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: No enemy here shall he see, But winter and rough weather. As You Like It. Act II. Sc. 5. L. 1. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss; Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion. Comedy of Errors. Act II. Sc. 2. L. 179. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = Who am no more but as the tops of trees, Which fence the roots they grow by and defend them. Pericles. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 29. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = A barren detested vale, you see it is; The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe. Titus Andronicus. Act II. Sc. 3. L. 93. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = Now all the tree-tops lay asleep, Like green waves on the sea, As still as in the silent deep The ocean-woods may be. Shelley—The Recollection. II. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = Pun-provoking thyme. Shenstone—The Schoolmistress. St. 11. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = The trees were gazing up into the sky, Their bare arms stretched in prayer for the snows. Alex. Smith—A Life-Drama. Sc. 2. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 813 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = The laurell, meed of mightie conquerours And poets sage; the firre that weepeth still; The willow, worne of forlorne paramours; The eugh, obedient to the bender's will; The birch, for shafts; the sallow for the mill; The mirrhe sweete-bleeding in the bitter wound; The warlike beech; the ash for nothing ill; '