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Page 50 - HE that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires ; As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires. Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.
Page 10 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray ; What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
Page 152 - Tender-handed stroke a nettle, And it stings you for your pains ; Grasp it like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains.
Page 148 - don't disturb them. Poor souls! I know they were up all night — God bless you all." With this he sunk into a very tranquil sleep, and indeed he scarcely afterwards gave any sign of consciousness, except for an instant on the arrival of his sons.
Page 120 - I never addressed myself in the language of decency and friendship to a woman, whether civilized or savage, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. With man it has often been otherwise.
Page 152 - Passions are likened best to floods and streams: The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb; So, when affections yield discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come. They that are rich in words, in words discover That they are poor in that which makes a lover.
Page 120 - In wandering over the barren plains of inhospitable Denmark, through honest Sweden...
Page 152 - Not those merrier days, not the pleasant days of hope, not those wanderings with a fair-haired maid which I have so often and so feelingly regretted, but the days, Coleridge, of a mothers fondness for her school-boy. What would I give to call her back to earth for one day ! — on my knees to ask her pardon for all those little asperities of temper which, from time to time, have given her gentle spirit pain ! and the day, my friend, I trust will come.
Page 148 - I may have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a good man — be virtuous — be religious— be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here.