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answer appeared asked beauty believe better Byron called Carington child considered continued course dear death Dick Earle Elinor entered eyes face fact father feel felt follow Frank girl give hand happy head heart hope hour human idea Italy John keep kind knew lady laughed leave less light live look Lord manner marry matter means mind Miss mother nature never night officer once passed perhaps person play poet poor position present reason received remained remark remember replied round seemed seen side society soon speak spirit strong suppose sure talk tell things thought told took true truth turned uncle voice whole wife wish woman write young
Page 516 - More servants wait on man Than he'll take notice of : in every path He treads down that which doth befriend him When sickness makes him pale and wan. O mighty love ! Man is one world, and hath Another to attend him.
Page 515 - SWEET Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My Music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like...
Page 62 - Rescued from death by force though pale and faint. Mine, as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint Purification in the old Law did save, And such as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. Her face was...
Page 579 - Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Page 528 - You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty!
Page 449 - Come from the woods that belt the gray hill-side, The seven elms, the poplars four That stand beside my father's door, And chiefly from the brook that loves To purl o'er matted cress and ribbed sand, Or dimple in the dark of rushy coves, Drawing into his narrow earthen urn, In every elbow and turn, The filter'd tribute of the rough woodland.
Page 517 - Over its grave i' the earth so chilly; Heavily hangs the hollyhock, Heavily hangs the tiger-lily. The air is damp, and hush'd, and close, As a sick man's room when he taketh repose An hour before death; My very heart faints and my whole soul grieves At the moist rich smell of the rotting leaves, And the breath Of the fading edges of box beneath, And the year's last rose. Heavily...
Page 449 - Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, And howlest, issuing out of night, With blasts that blow the poplar white, And lash with storm the streaming pane?
Page 447 - That, stirr'd with languid pulses of the oar, Waves all its lazy lilies, and creeps on, Barge-laden, to three arches of a bridge Crown'd with the minster-towers. The fields between Are dewy-fresh, browsed by deep-udder'd kine, And all about the large lime feathers low, The lime a summer home of murmurous wings.