Dolores, by mrs. Forrester, 1. kötet

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277. oldal - And over all old things and all things dear. She loves not you nor me as all we love her. Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear, She would not hear. Let us rise up and part; she will not know. Let us go seaward as the great winds go, Full of blown sand and foam; what help is...
178. oldal - Sweet is true love tho' given in vain, in vain ; And sweet is death who puts an end to pain : I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. " Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter death must be: Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me. O Love, if death be sweeter, let me die.
10. oldal - I PLUCKED pink blossoms from mine apple tree And wore them all that evening in my hair : Then in due season when I went to see I found no apples there. With dangling basket all along the grass As I had come I went the selfsame track : My neighbours mocked me while they saw me pass So empty-handed back. Lilian and Lilias smiled in trudging by, Their heaped-up basket teazed me like a jeer ; Sweet-voiced...
285. oldal - Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse," It Is true, but his property nevertheless.
2. oldal - All nature is awake ; soft scent of flowers, sweet song of birds fill the air, not with the drowsy lulling languor of Summer time, but with the keen quickening vigour of awakening life and energy.

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