"Come, come," said Tom's father, "at your time of life, "There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake-- "It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife"-- "Why, so it is, father--whose wife shall I take?"
Though sorrow long has worn my heart; Though every day I've, counted o'er Hath brought a new and, quickening smart To wounds that rankled fresh before;
Dear John, as I know, like our brother of London, You've sipt of all knowledge, both sacred and mundane, No doubt, in some ancient Joe Miller, you've read What Cato, that cunning old Roman, once said--...
Whisperings, heard by wakeful maids, To whom the night-stars guide us; Stolen walks thro' moonlight shades, With those we love beside us, Hearts beating, At meeting; Tears starting,...
Let thy joys alone be remembered now, Let thy sorrows go sleep awhile; Or if thought's dark cloud come o'er thy brow, Let Love light it up with his smile, For thus to meet, and thus to find,...
If ever life was prosperously cast, If ever life was like the lengthened flow Of some sweet music, sweetness to the last, 'Twas his who, mourned by many, sleeps below. ...
"This much I dare say, that, since lording and loitering hath come up, preaching hath come down, contrary to the Apostles' times. For they preached and lorded not; and now they lord and preach not.... Ever since the Prelates we...
As it was but last week that I sint you a letther, You'll wondher, dear Judy, what this is about; And, throth, it's a letther myself would like betther, Could I manage to lave the contints of it out;...
Dear Judy, I sind you this bit of a letther, By mail-coach conveyance--for want of a betther-- To tell you what luck in this world I have had Since I left the sweet cabin, at Mullinafad....
This life, dear Corry, who can doubt?-- Resembles much friend Ewart's[1] wine, When first the rosy drops come out, How beautiful, how clear they shine!...
Mock me no more with Love's beguiling dream, A dream, I find, illusory as sweet: One smile of friendship, nay, of cold esteem, Far dearer were than passion's bland deceit! ...
Why, let the stingless critic chide With all that fume of vacant pride Which mantles o'er the pendant fool, Like vapor on a stagnant pool. Oh! if the song, to feeling true,...
When Time was entwining the garland of years, Which to crown my beloved was given, Though some of the leaves might be sullied with tears, Yet the flowers were all gathered in heaven. ...
Oh albums, albums, how I dread Your everlasting scrap and scrawl! How often wish that from the dead Old Omar would pop forth his head, And make a bonfire of you all!...
Who is the Maid my spirit seeks, Thro' cold reproof and slander's blight? Has she Love's roses on her cheeks? Is hers an eye of this world's light? No--wan and sunk with midnight prayer...
Young Jessica sat all the day, With heart o'er idle love-thoughts pining; Her needle bright beside her lay, So active once!--now idly shining. Ah, Jessy, 'tis in idle hearts...