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appeared asked beauty better called character close coming course door Doris England English eyes face fact father feel felt gave girls give given half hand head hear heard heart human interest Italy kind knew lady land least leave less light living looked Madame matter mean mind Miss Mohl morning mother nature never night once passed perhaps person play present question reason remarkable round Scene seemed seen side sort sound speak story strong sure taken talk tell thing thought tion took trees turned voice Warrender whole wish woman write young
Page 593 - Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. "Ha! ha!" quoth he, "full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row.
Page 589 - My function is that of the aesthetic, not the doctrinal teacher, — the rousing of the nobler emotions, which make mankind desire the social right, not the prescribing of special measures, concerning which the artistic mind, however strongly moved by social sympathy, is often not the best judge.
Page 97 - Chequer-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
Page 97 - Ah, with the Grape my fading life provide, And wash the Body whence the Life has died, And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf, By some not unfrequented Garden-side.
Page 210 - I was at ease, but he hath broken me asunder: he hath also taken me by my neck, and shaken me to pieces, and set me up for his mark.
Page 321 - A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Merchant of Venice, The Merry Wives of Windsor, Much Ado about Nothing, As You Like It, Twelfth Night...
Page 140 - Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another spring to hail. Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
Page 290 - Come, see the north wind's masonry. Out of an unseen quarry evermore Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer Curves his white bastions with projected roof Round every windward stake or tree or door.
Page 240 - Not tricked and frounced as she was wont With the Attic boy to hunt, But kerchieft in a comely cloud, While rocking winds are piping loud, Or ushered with a shower still, When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves.