My love she's but a lassie, by the author of 'Queenie'. |
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My Love She's But a Lassie, by the Author of 'Queenie' Maria Henrietta De La Cherois-Crommelin No preview available - 2016 |
My Love She's But a Lassie, by the Author of 'Queenie' Maria Henrietta De La Cherois-Crommelin No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
already answered asked beautiful believe beside better called Captain changed child close cloth cold Colonel coming Cust dark dead dear deep door doubt eyes face father fear feeling felt gave girl give half hand happy head heard heart hope hour Huntley Juliana keep knew lady Langton late laugh leave Lester light lips living looked Mabel Madame matter Maud mind Miss morning nature never night once pain passed past perhaps poor quiet remember rest round seemed seen showed side silent smile soon soul sound speak stopped strange suddenly sweet talk tell thing thought told tone tried trying turned voice vols Walter watching weak whisper whole wild wish woman wonder young
Popular passages
Page 211 - HOW happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will ; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill! Whose passions not his masters are; Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied unto the world by care Of public fame or private breath ; Who envies none that chance doth raise...
Page 353 - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Page 49 - Tell me, where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head ? How begot, how nourished ? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell ; I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
Page 90 - No spirit feels waste, Not a muscle is stopped in its playing nor sinew unbraced. Oh, the wild joys of living ! the leaping from rock up to rock, The strong rending of boughs from the fir-tree, the cool silver shock Of the plunge in a pool's living water, the hunt of the bear, And the sultriness showing the lion is couched in his lair.
Page 227 - Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Page 250 - You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light, You common people of the skies; What are you when the moon shall rise?
Page 133 - thus to prefer dark night Before true light ! To live in grots and caves, and hate the day Because it shows the way, — The way which, from this dead and dark abode, Leads up to God ; A way where you might tread the sun and be More bright than he !" But, as I did their madness so discuss, One whispered thus, "This ring the Bridegroom did for none provide. But for his Bride.
Page 312 - THE FLOWER HOW fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are Thy returns ! e'en as the flowers in spring ; To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
Page 355 - The spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung; The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green; My youth is gone, and yet I am but young; I saw the world, and yet I was not seen; My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun; And now I live, and now my life is done...
Page 258 - in the world they say; Come!' I said; and we rose through the surf in the bay. We went up the beach, by the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the...