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APOLLONIUS arms better bill birds bone breath called cold comes common course dark dear death Doctor DOMUS door dreams drink drop earth EPIGRAM eyes face fall fear feel fire give gone green half hand hard head hear heart hold hope horse human hunt it's keep kind Lady LAMIA leave light live look Lord Lycius master mean MERCUTIUS mind Miss morning never night nine once pass play poor round seemed seen short sing song soon sort stand sure sweet talk tears tell thee There's thing thou thought Till took town turned voice whole wish young
Seite 465 - Of arbours filled with dainty scents From lovely flowers that never fade ; Bright flies that glitter in the sun, And glow-worms shining in the shade. And talking birds with gifted tongues, For singing songs and telling tales, And pretty dwarfs to show the way Through fairy hills and fairy dales. But when a bad child goes to bed, From left to right she weaves her rings, And then it dreams all through the night Of only ugly horrid things ! Then...
Seite 164 - tuneful throng.' Where are ye, early-purling streams, Whose waves reflect the morning beams And colours of the skies? My rills are only puddle-drains From shambles — or reflect the stains Of calimanco-dyes. Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones : Not thus the city streamlets flow ; They make no music as they go, Though never 'off the stones.
Seite 194 - SOME sigh for this and that, My wishes don't go far, The world may wag at will, So I have my cigar.
Seite 191 - I would have thee know, friend, (addressing himself to Adams), I shall not learn my duty from such as thee. I know what charity is, better than to give to vagabonds.
Seite 446 - A spade ! a rake ! a hoe ! A pickaxe, or a bill ! A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow, A flail, or what ye will...
Seite 436 - TO MINERVA. From the Greek. MY temples throb, my pulses boil, I'm sick of Song, and Ode, and Ballad — So Thyrsis, take the midnight oil, And pour it on a lobster salad. My brain is dull, my sight is foul, I cannot write a verse, or read, — Then Pallas take away thine Owl, And let us have a Lark instead.
Seite 269 - I went to my long home, I didn't stay long in it. The body-snatchers they have come. And made a snatch at me ; It's...
Seite 161 - I REALLY take it very kind, This visit, Mrs. Skinner ! I have not seen you such an age — (The wretch has come to dinner !) " Your daughters, too, what loves of girls — What heads for painters...
Seite 399 - The careless dog's-ears apt to deck My book and collar both ! How can this formal man be styled Merely an Alexandrine child, A boy of larger growth ? Oh, for that small, small beer anew!