Spare your voice, and hold your pen-
Well and bitterly I know
All the songs were ever sung,
All the words were ever said;
Could it be, when I was young,
Some one dropped me on my head?
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So let me have the rouge again,
The poor young men, the dear young menThey’ll all be here by noon today.And I shall wear the blue, I think-They beg to touch its rippled lace;Or do they love me best in pink,So sweetly flattering the face?And are you sure my eyes are bright,And is it true my cheek is clear?Young what’s-his-name stayed half…
Carlyle combined the lit’ry life
Remarking, rather testily,‘Oh, stop your dodging, Mrs. C.!’
Accursed from their birth they be
Pursuing it from bed to bed-I think they would be better dead.
Oh, lead me to a quiet cell
And bar the window passing well,And gyve my wrists and ankles.Oh, wrap my eyes with linen fair,With hempen cord go bind me,And, of your mercy, leave me there,Nor tell them where to find me.Oh, lock the portal as you go,And see its bolts be double….Come back in half an hour or so,And I will be…
There still are kindly things for me to know,
This little chair of scrubbed and sturdy deal,This easy book, this fire, sedate and slow.And I shall stay with them, nor cry the woeOf wounds across my breast that do not heal;Nor wish that Beauty drew a duller steel,Since I am sworn to meet her as a foe.It may be, when the devil’s own time…
Leave me to my lonely pillow.
Who has vowed to wear the willowLooks a fool, tricked out in roses.Who are you, my lad, to ease me?Leave your pretty words unspoken.Tinkling echoes little please me,Now my heart is freshly broken.Over young are you to guide me,And your blood is slow and sleeping.If you must, then sit beside me….Tell me, why have I…