The Poetical Works of Winthrop Mackworth Praed

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H. G. Langley, 1844 - 287 pages
 

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Page 168 - His talk was like a stream which runs With rapid change from rocks to roses : It slipped from politics to puns : It passed from Mahomet to Moses : Beginning with the laws which keep The planets in their radiant courses, And ending with some precept deep For dressing eels or shoeing horses.
Page 183 - Fly not yet" — upon the river; Some jealousy of some one's heir, Some hopes of dying broken-hearted, A miniature, a lock of hair, The usual vows,- — and then we parted. We parted; months and years...
Page 181 - Through sunny May, through sultry June, I loved her with a love eternal ; I spoke her praises to the moon, I wrote them to the Sunday Journal...
Page 167 - THE VICAR. Some years ago, ere time and taste Had turned our parish topsy-turvy, When Darnel Park was Darnel Waste, And roads as little known as scurvy, The man who lost his way, between St. Mary's Hill and Sandy Thicket, Was always shown across the green, And guided to the Parson's wicket. Back flew the bolt of lissom lath ; Fair Margaret, in her tidy kirtle, Led the lorn traveller up the path, Through clean-clipt rows of box and myrtle ; And Don and Sancho, Tramp and Tray, Upon the parlour steps...
Page 183 - She smiled on many just for fun, — I knew that there was nothing in it; I was the first, — the only one, Her heart had thought of for a minute. I knew it; for she told me so, In phrase which was divinely moulded; She wrote a charming hand, — and oh!
Page 180 - And then she danced, — oh, heaven, her dancing! Dark was her hair, her hand was white; Her voice was exquisitely tender; Her eyes were full of liquid light; I never saw a waist so slender; Her every look, her every smile, Shot right and left a score of arrows; I thought 'twas Venus from her isle, And wondered where she'd left her sparrows.
Page 212 - If he ever drinks port after dinner, If his brow or his breeding is low, If he calls himself 'Thompson' or 'Skinner', My own Araminta, say 'No!
Page 168 - And warmed himself in court or college, He had not gained an honest friend, And twenty curious scraps of knowledge ;— If he departed as he came, With no new light on love or liquor,^ Good sooth, the traveller was to blame, And not the Vicarage, or the Yicar.
Page 68 - In a monstrous fright, by the murky light, He looked to the left, and he looked to the right. And what was the vision close before him, That flung such a sudden stupor o'er him?

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