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actor admired Allan appeared Bacha Barron Field beauty Bernard Barton boys called character Charles Lamb Christ's Hospital Coleridge Confessions criticism death delight Duke edition Editor Elia essay Essays of Elia Every-Day Book eyes face fancy father feeling foot genius George Wither Gutch hand hath Hazlitt heart Hogarth honour humour imagination John King lady Lamb's friend Leigh Hunt Lepus letter Leucippus lived London Magazine look Lord Lycia Macbeth Mary Lamb mind Miss Kelly moral Munden nature never night passage passion person piece play pleasure poem poet poor present Prince printed reader Reflector reprinted by Lamb Rosamund Gray scene seems Shakspeare Signed sort Southey speak spirit story supposed sweet thee thing Thomas thou thought tion verse Vincent Bourne William William Ayrton Wither words writing written wrote young
230 psl. - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint...
255 psl. - Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm To bless the doors from nightly harm.
229 psl. - Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device, Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.
419 psl. - Where Angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.
115 psl. - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
254 psl. - All but yon widow'd solitary thing, That feebly bends beside the plashy spring : She, wretched matron, forced in age, for bread, To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread...
188 psl. - Made many a fond enquiry; and when they, Whose presence gave no comfort, were gone by, Her heart was still more sad. And by yon gate, That bars the traveller's road, she often stood, And when a stranger horseman came, the latch Would lift, and in his face look wistfully ; Most happy, if, from aught discovered there Of tender feeling, she might dare repeat The same sad question.
186 psl. - Contingencies of pomp ; and serve to exalt Her native brightness. As the ample moon, In the deep stillness of a summer even Rising behind a thick and lofty grove, Burns, like an unconsuming fire of light, In the green trees ; and, kindling on all sides Their leafy umbrage, turns the dusky veil Into a substance glorious as her own, Yea, with her own incorporated, by power Capacious and serene...
525 psl. - Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm That age or injury has hollow'd deep, Where on his bed of wool and matted leaves He has outslept the winter, ventures forth To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun, The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play. He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird, Ascends the neighb'ring beech; there whisks his brush, And perks his ears, and stamps and scolds aloud, With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm, And anger insignificantly fierce.