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Ball beauty belles blue bright bring charming Church club comes Crown dance daughter dear delight dream dress Edition eyes face fair fancy fashion fear feel feet fond FRANK girl give gone grace green grow hair half hand he's head hear heard heart hope keep Lady laugh leave light lips live London look Lord mamma married Miss never night o'er once pass passion perhaps play pleasant pleasure Poems poor Pray pretty rest rose round season seems seen sigh smile Society soft song sorrow Spring story sure sweet talk taste tears tell tender There's thing THOMAS thought town true turn Twas verse wish young
Page 101 - There, when the sounds of flute and fiddle Gave signal sweet in that old hall Of hands across and down the middle, Hers was the subtlest spell by far Of all that...
Page 127 - MY coachman, in the moonlight there, Looks through the side-light of the door ; I hear him with his brethren swear, As I could do, — but only more. Flattening his nose against the pane, He envies me my brilliant lot, Breathes on his aching fists in vain, And dooms me to a place more hot. He sees me in to supper go, A silken wonder by my side, Bare arms, bare shoulders, and a row Of flounces, for the door too wide. He thinks how happy is my arm 'Neath its white-gloved and...
Page 36 - The dews of the evening most carefully shun ! Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun.
Page 37 - You tell me you're promised a lover, My own Araminta, next week; Why cannot my fancy discover The hue of his coat and his cheek? Alas! if he look like another, A vicar, a banker, a beau, Be deaf to your father and mother, My own Araminta, say 'No!
Page xvii - FOLLOW a shadow, it still flies you, Seem to fly it, it will pursue. So court a mistress, she denies you, Let her alone, she will court you. Say are not women truly, then, Styled but the shadows of us men ? At morn and even shades are longest, At noon they are or short or none. So men at weakest, they are strongest, But grant us perfect, they're not known. Say are not women truly, then, Styled but the shadows of us men...
Page 102 - Lieutenant of the County. But titles, and the three per cents., And mortgages, and great relations, And India bonds, and tithes, and rents, Oh what are they to love's sensations? Black eyes, fair forehead, clustering locks Such wealth, such honours, Cupid chooses He cares as little for the Stocks, As Baron Rothschild for the Muses.
Page 28 - Yes, she has one, I must aver; When all the world conspires to praise her, The woman's deaf, and does not hear.
Page 15 - The dear old Street of clubs and cribs, As north and south it stretches, Still seems to smack of Rolliad squibs, And Gillray's fiercer sketches; The quaint old dress, the grand old style, The mots, the racy stories; The wine, the dice, the wit, the bile — The hate of Whigs and Tories.
Page 107 - I'll say ; Indeed, I was half broken-hearted For a week, when they took you away. Fond fancy brought back to my slumbers, Our walks on the Ness and the Den, And echoed the musical numbers Which you used to sing to me then. I know the romance, since its over, 'Twere idle, or worse, to recall ; I know you're a terrible rover, But, Clarence, you'll come to our Ball...