Doctor Cupid: A Novel

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Macmillan, 1899 - 403页

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第68页 - GOD ALMIGHTY first planted a garden. And, indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures ; it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man, without which buildings and palaces are but gross handiworks.
第24页 - You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light ; You common people of the skies ; What are you when the moon shall rise?
第86页 - Her lips were red, and one was thin, Compared to that was next her chin. Some bee had stung it newly; But Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July.
第68页 - God Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed it is the purest of human pleasures. It is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man; without which buildings and palaces are but gross...
第331页 - Cross, hard by the way Where we— thou know'st — do sell our hay, There is a house with stairs ; And there did I see coming down Such folk as are not in our town, Forty at least, in pairs.
第171页 - To ANTHEA. Now is the time when all the lights wax dim; And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him Who was thy servant: Dearest, bury me Under that holy-oak, or gospel-tree ; Where, though thou see'st not, thou may'st think upon Me, when thou yearly go'st procession...
第105页 - The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide : The level chambers, ready with their pride, Were glowing to receive a thousand guests : The carved angels, ever eager-eyed, Stared, where upon their heads the cornice rests, With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts.
第221页 - Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge — That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over. Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
第35页 - TO one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament. Who is more happy, when, with heart's content, Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair And gentle tale of love and languishment ? Returning home at evening, with an ear Catching the notes of Philomel, — an eye...
第371页 - WEEP with me, all you that read This little story; And know, for whom a tear you shed Death's self is sorry. 'Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature, As Heaven and Nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature.

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