Temple Bar, Bind 108George Augustus Sala, Edmund Yates Ward and Lock, 1896 |
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Side 5
... girl . " Why didn't that fool Tom fall in love with her , instead of heathen goddesses ? " was his mental comment as she came in . “ I heard from my prodigal son to - day , " he said , as they were sitting at dinner ; " he has decided ...
... girl . " Why didn't that fool Tom fall in love with her , instead of heathen goddesses ? " was his mental comment as she came in . “ I heard from my prodigal son to - day , " he said , as they were sitting at dinner ; " he has decided ...
Side 7
... girl who lived alone in a tiny room in one of the poorer cottages with her week- old baby . It was the common story ; she was weak and ill , and unable to work . Yet to such as her the promise had been made . The baby too ; surely the ...
... girl who lived alone in a tiny room in one of the poorer cottages with her week- old baby . It was the common story ; she was weak and ill , and unable to work . Yet to such as her the promise had been made . The baby too ; surely the ...
Side 12
... girl , to see her day after day , to be admitted by her into a frank , boyish sort of intimacy , was a proceeding he would have looked upon , a month or two ago , as a very doubtful privilege . He thought of our English marriageable ...
... girl , to see her day after day , to be admitted by her into a frank , boyish sort of intimacy , was a proceeding he would have looked upon , a month or two ago , as a very doubtful privilege . He thought of our English marriageable ...
Side 22
... girls don't look like petrified masks of despair because sirocco has been blowing for a couple of hours in the morning . " " Well , I suppose it must have been something else then , ' said Tom . " What a brilliant solution ! I am ...
... girls don't look like petrified masks of despair because sirocco has been blowing for a couple of hours in the morning . " " Well , I suppose it must have been something else then , ' said Tom . " What a brilliant solution ! I am ...
Side 24
... girl in the grand style . That is quite ridiculous . They may or may not be very good as statues , but they would not answer as wives . In the natural course of things you will get over that . Try to do so as quickly as possible . Look ...
... girl in the grand style . That is quite ridiculous . They may or may not be very good as statues , but they would not answer as wives . In the natural course of things you will get over that . Try to do so as quickly as possible . Look ...
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admiration Applethorpe asked Bannister beautiful Bellersham Bennet better Bicêtre Bramwell called Carlingford Castelpisano charm Chateaubriand colour CVIII dear delight Dick door Drusilla Egeria eyes face father feeling felt Fräulein Freke friends Gilby girl give grey hand happy head heard heart hour husband kissed knew Lady Pierpoint laughed Leigh Hunt Lina live Loftus looked Lord Lorelei Lycidas Madame Madame de Staël mamma Manvers Margery Markham marriage married matter Matthew Arnold Maud mind Miss Vale morning nature never night once Paris passed passion Pavlovsk perhaps person poems poet poor Prince Psyche Rachel relics round seemed Shelley Sibyl Slabtown smile soul speak spirit stood Suard sure talk tell things thought told took Tréguier turned Verlaine voice walked wife woman wonder words Wrexham young Zilda
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Side 396 - And all their echoes mourn. The willows and the hazel copses green Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. As killing as the canker to the rose...
Side 392 - Midst others of less note, came one frail Form, A phantom among men; companionless As the last cloud of an expiring storm Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess, Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness, Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness, And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey.
Side 394 - Too rare, too rare, grow now my visits here! 'Mid city-noise, not, as with thee of yore, Thyrsis! in reach of sheep-bells is my home. — Then through the great town's harsh, heart-wearying roar, Let in thy voice a whisper often come, To chase fatigue and fear: Why faintest thou? I wandered till I died. Roam on! The light we sought is shining still. Dost thou ask -proof? Our tree yet crowns the hill, Our Scholar travels yet the loved hillside.
Side 200 - ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Side 391 - Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access, Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread.
Side 200 - The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again, with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blest, And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
Side 536 - Paulo Purganti and his Wife." JOHNSON. " Sir, there is nothing there, but that his wife wanted to be kissed, when poor Paulo was out of pocket. No, Sir, Prior is a lady's book. No lady is ashamed to have it standing in her library.
Side 200 - ... his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold : Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, " What writest thou ?" The vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Side 337 - Car nous voulons la Nuance encor, Pas la couleur, rien que la nuance! Oh! la nuance seule fiance Le rêve au rêve et la flûte au cor!
Side 35 - It fortifies my soul to know That, though I perish, Truth is so : That, howsoe'er I stray and range, Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change. I steadier step when I recall That, if I slip, Thou dost not falL 'PERCHE PENSA?