What is that land of hill and dale That is so beautiful, The land aglow with summer days, Land with the northern lights ablaze, Whose beauty all the seasons share, What is that land so fair? There many thousand lakes are bright With twinkling stars at night There many kanteles resound And all around make hillsides sing And on the golden heath firs ring: That is the Finnish land.
Aleksis KiviRelated topics
beautiful beauty bright dale fair finnish golden heath hill land lights night northern resound ring share sing summer thousand twinkling days starsRelated quotes
Opposite my studio a huge factory - its black walls scarred with red stigmas of mysterious battles - was towering with the gloom of a prison. At night fires gave to innumerable windows menacing blazing looks of demons - while at other times vivid blue-green lights rang sharply in harmony with the radiant yellow-green alertness of cats enjewelling the obscurity around.
Joseph Stella
So they set off up the hill arm-in-arm, the Saint, the Dragon, and the Boy. The lights in the little village began to go out; but there were stars, and a late moon, as they climbed to the Downs together. And, as they turned the last corner and disappeared from view, snatches of an old song were borne back on the night-breeze. I can't be certain which of them was singing, but I think it was the Dragon!
Kenneth Grahame
What dost thou see, lone watcher on the tower
Is the day breaking? comes the wish'd-for hour?
Tell us the signs, and stretch abroad thy hand
If the bright morning dawns upon the land.""The stars are clear above me, scarcely one
Has dimm'd its rays in reverence to the sun;
But yet I see, on the horizon's verge,
Some fair, faint streaks, as if the light would surge.
Charles Mackay
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice; With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress; In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
W. H. Auden
All the wild world is beautiful, and it matters but little where we go, to highlands or lowlands, woods or plains, on the sea or land or down among the crystals of waves or high in a balloon in the sky; through all the climates, hot or cold, storms and calms, everywhere and always we are in God's eternal beauty and love. So universally true is this, the spot where we chance to be always seems the best.
John Muir
