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28. oldal - Twas papered o'er with studious themes, The tasks I wrote — my present dreams Will never soar so high ! My joys are wingless all and dead ; My dumps are made of more than lead ; My flights soon find a fall ; My fears prevail, my fancies droop, Joy never cometh with a hoop, And seldom with a call...
48. oldal - Even is come ; and from the dark Park, hark, The signal of the setting sun — one gun ! And six is sounding from the chime, prime time To go and see the Drury-Lane Dane slain, — Or hear Othello's jealous doubt spout out, — Or Macbeth raving at that shade-made blade, Denying to his frantic clutch much touch...
28. oldal - s ne'er out of school : My heart is pain'd with scorn and slight, I have too many foes to fight, And friends grown strangely cool ! The very chum that shared my cake Holds out so cold a hand to shake, It makes me shrink and sigh : — On this I will not dwell and hang, — The changeling would not feel a pang Though these should meet his eye ! No skies so blue or so serene As then ; — no leaves look half so green As clothed the playground tree ! All things I loved are alter'd so, Nor does it ease...
64. oldal - s roaring, Peal on peal contending clash ; On our heads fierce rain falls pouring, In our eyes the paddles splash.
29. oldal - Beneath the stroke, and even find Some sugar in the cane ! The Arabian Nights rehearsed in bed ! The Fairy Tales in school-time read, By stealth, 'twixt verb and noun ! The angel form that always walk'd In all my dreams, and look'd and talk'd Exactly like Miss Brown ! The omne bene...
29. oldal - The careless dogs'-ears apt to deck My book and collar both ! How can this formal man be styled Merely an Alexandrine child, A boy of larger growth...
244. oldal - ... No inkling of the way — no notion — " No go " — by land or ocean — No mail — no post — No news from any foreign coast — No park — no ring — no afternoon gentility — No company — no nobility — No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, No comfortable feel in any member — No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds November ! LOVE AND LUNACY.
30. oldal - Then home, sweet home ! the crowded coach — The joyous shout — the loud approach — The winding horns like rams' ! The meeting sweet that made me thrill, The sweetmeats almost sweeter still, No
vii. oldal - The humble records of my life to search, I have not herded with mere pagan beasts ; But sometimes I have " sat at good men's feasts," And I have been " where bells have knoll'd to church.
vii. oldal - Of such a character no single trace Exists, I know, in my fictitious face ; There wants a certain cast about the eye ; A certain lifting of the nose's tip; A certain curling of the nether lip, In scorn of all that is, beneath the sky...

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