Poems, plays and Rosamund Gray

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J.M. Dent & Company, 1903
 

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Page 82 - THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days ; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
Page 90 - A month or more hath she been dead,. Yet cannot I by force be led To think upon the wormy bed, And her together. A springy motion in her gait, , ; ' A rising step, did indicate Of pride and joy no commdn rate, ; That flushed her spirit.
Page 61 - In my poor mind it is most sweet to muse Upon the days gone by ; to act in thought Past seasons o'er, and be again a child ; To sit in fancy on the turf-clad slope, Down which the child would roll ; to pluck gay flowers, Make posies in the sun, which the child's hand, (Childhood offended soon, soon reconciled,) Would throw away, and...
Page 96 - Fram'd again no second smell. Roses, violets, but toys For the smaller sort of boys, Or for greener damsels meant ; Thou art the only manly scent. Stinking'st of the stinking kind, Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind, Africa, that brags her foyson, Breeds no such prodigious poison, Henbane, nightshade, both together, Hemlock, aconite Nay, rather, Plant divine, of rarest virtue ; Blisters on the tongue would hurt you. 'Twas but in a sort I...
Page 82 - Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces. Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood, Earth seem'da desert I was bound to traverse, Seeking to find the old familiar faces. Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling ? So might we talk of the old familiar faces...
Page 404 - The Lambs came to comfort me in all weathers, hail or sunshine, in daylight and in darkness, even in the dreadful frost and snow of the beginning of 1814.
Page 154 - written strange defeatures" there ; And time, with heaviest hand of all, Like that fierce writing on the wall, Hath stamp'd sad dates — he can't recall ; And error gilding worst designs — Like speckled snake that strays and shines— Betrays his path by crooked lines ; And vice hath left his ugly blot ; And good resolves, a moment hot, Fairly began — but finish'd not ; And fruitless, late remorse doth traceLike Hebrew lore a backward pace—- Her irrecoverable race.
Page 185 - Touch but a tip of him, a horn — 'tis well — He curls up in his sanctuary shell. He's his own landlord, his own tenant ; stay Long as he will, he dreads no Quarter Day. Himself he boards and lodges ; ooth invites, And feasts, himself; sleeps with himself o
Page 275 - Mr. H , thou wert damned ! Bright shone the morning on the play-bills that announced thy appearance, and the streets were filled with the buzz of persons asking one another if they would go to see Mr. H , and answering that they would certainly ; but before night the gaiety, not of the author, but of his friends and the town, was eclipsed, for thou were damned ! Hadst thou been anonymous thou haply mightst have lived.
Page 61 - THE SABBATH BELLS. THE cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one, who from the far-off hills proclaims Tidings of good to Zion...

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