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answered appeared asked beauty believe better brought called close coming course dark Darkin dear Dolly door dress English eyes face father fear feeling fellow felt fire French gave girl give Gwendoline half hand happy head hear heard heart hope hour interest Italy Jack kind knew Lady leave less light lives looked lost matter mean mind Miss morning moved nature never night once passed perhaps picture play poor present rest road round seemed seen sense ship side smile soon sound speak standing stood strange sure Talbot talk tell thing thought tion told took turned voice wait walked Welbore wife wish woman wonder young
Página 199 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret...
Página 199 - Life is the rose's hope while yet unblown; The reading of an ever-changing tale ; The light uplifting of a maiden's veil; A pigeon tumbling in clear summer air ; A laughing school-boy, without grief or care Riding the springy brandies of an elm.
Página 197 - And the harvest's done. 1 see a lily on thy brow With anguish moist and fever dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too.
Página 199 - I have been hovering for some time between an exquisite sense of the luxurious, and a love for philosophy : were I calculated for the former I should be glad. But as I am not, I shall turn all my soul to the latter.
Página 200 - I find earlier days are gone by — I find that I can have no enjoyment in the world but continual drinking of knowledge. I find there is no worthy pursuit but the idea of doing some good to the world.
Página 200 - To this point was Wordsworth come, as far as I can conceive, when he wrote "Tintern Abbey," and it seems to me that his Genius is explorative of those dark Passages. Now if we live, and go on thinking, we too shall explore them.
Página 386 - O whaten a mountain is yon," she said, " All so dreary wi' frost and snow ?" " O yon is the mountain of hell," he cried,
Página 385 - They thought King James and a' his men Had won the house wi' bow and spear; It was but twenty Scots and ten, That put a thousand in sic a stear! Wi' coulters, and wi' forehammers, We garr'd the bars bang merrilie, Until we came to the inner prison, Where Willie o