The Best Letters of Charles Lamb

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A. C. McClurg & Company, 1892 - 336 páginas
 

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Página 147 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.
Página 13 - Bind me, ye woodbines, in your twines ; Curl me about, ye gadding vines ; And oh so close your circles lace, That I may never leave this place : But lest your fetters prove too weak, Ere I your silken bondage break, Do you, O brambles, chain me too, And, courteous briars, nail me through.
Página 12 - I WAS born, and passed the first seven years of my life, in the Temple. Its church, its halls, its gardens, its fountain, its river, I had almost said — for in those young years, what was this king of rivers to me but a stream that watered our pleasant places ? — these are of my oldest recollections.
Página 87 - Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun...
Página 289 - All the dogs here are going mad, if you believe the overseers ; but I protest they seem to me very rational and collected. But nothing is so deceitful as mad people, to those who are not used to them. Try him with hot water : if he won't lick it up it is a sign he does not like it. Does his tail wag horizontally, or perpendicularly ? That has decided the fate of many dogs in Enfield. Is his general deportment cheerful ? I mean when he is pleased — for otherwise there is no judging. You can't be...
Página 166 - He is retired as noontide dew, Or fountain in a noon-day grove ; And you must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love...
Página 142 - I was born, the furniture which has been before my eyes all my life, a bookcase which has followed me about, like a faithful dog (only exceeding him in knowledge), wherever I have moved ; old chairs, old tables, streets, squares, where I have sunned myself, my old school— these are my mistresses — have I not enough without your mountains 7 I do not envy you.
Página 197 - The pleasure-house is dust : behind, before, This is no common waste, no common gloom ; But Nature, in due course of time, once more Shall here put on her beauty and her bloom. "She leaves these objects to a slow decay, That what we are, and have been, may be known ; But at the coming of the milder day These monuments shall all be overgrown.
Página 168 - All my strength is gone, and I am like a fool, bereft of her co-operation. I dare not think, lest I should think wrong ; so used am I to look up to her in the least and the biggest perplexity. To say all that I know of her, would be more than I think anybody could...
Página 12 - A light frame, so fragile that it seemed as if a breath would overthrow it, clad in clerklike black, was surmounted by a head of form and expression the most noble and sweet. His black hair curled crisply about an expanded forehead ; his eyes, softly brown, twinkled with varying expression, though the prevalent feeling was sad ; and the nose slightly curved, and delicately carved at the nostril, with the lower outline of the face regularly oval, completed a head which was finely placed on the shoulders,...

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