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acquaintance Acrostic autograph Barton beautiful Bernard Barton brother Burney Canon Ainger Charles Lamb Charles Lloyd Christ's Hospital copy correspondence Cottle Crown 8vo daughter dear Ditto Dyer edition Elia Elkin Mathews Emma Endorsed Enfield Essays father Fcap feel Fornham give Godwin Grice hand Hazlitt hear Holcroft India House Inner Temple interest James James White John Chambers John Lamb Kenney kind lady Lamb to Miss Lamb's letter to Coleridge literary Little Queen Street London Lyrics Mary Mary Lamb Miss Isola Miss Lamb mother Moxon never numbers original paper perhaps person play pleasure Poems poet poetical poetry poor portrait Postmarked Pray present printed published S. T. Coleridge Selwyn Image shew sister Songs sonnet Southey Stoddart story T. W. ROLLESTONE Talfourd Temple thanks thing thought tion verse vols volume Widford William write written
Page 113 - That converse, which we now in vain regret. How gladly would the man recall to life The boy's neglected sire ! a mother too, That softer friend, perhaps more gladly still, Might he demand them at the gates of death.
Page 2 - ... where a stipulation has been made to the contrary, and of printing a separate edition of any of the books for America irrespective of the numbers to which the English editions are limited. The numbers mentioned do not include copies sent to the public libraries, nor those sent for review.
Page 128 - tis the reading of Chaucer has misled you; his foolish stories about Cambuscan and the ring, and the horse of brass. Believe me...
Page 146 - Soon after you left us we were distressed by the cries of a cat, which seemed to proceed from the garrets adjoining to ours, and only separated from ours by a locked door on the farther side of my brother's bedroom, which you know was the little room at the top of the kitchen stairs. We had the lock forced, and let poor puss out from behind a panel of the wainscot, and she lived with us from that time, for we were in gratitude bound to keep her, as she...
Page 135 - I have once laid aside with dissatisfaction. Why is he wandering on the sea ?— Coleridge should now with Wordsworth be. By slow degrees he'd steal away Their woe, and gently bring a ray (So happily he'd time relief,) Of comfort from their very grief. He'd tell them that their brother dead, When years have passed o'er their head, Will be remembered with such holy, True, and perfect melancholy, That ever this lost brother John Will be their heart's companion. His voice they'll always hear, His face...
Page 147 - ... had the lock forced and let poor puss out from behind a panel of the wainscot, and she lived with us from that time, for we were in gratitude bound to keep her, as she had introduced us to four untenanted, unowned rooms, and by degrees we have taken possession of these unclaimed apartments — first putting up lines to dry our clothes, then moving my brother's bed into one of these, more commodious than his own room.
Page 147 - And last winter, my brother being unable to pursue a work he had begun, owing to the kind interruptions of friends who were more at leisure than himself, I persuaded him that he might write at his ease in one of these rooms, as he could not then hear the door knock, or hear himself denied to be at home, which was sure to make him call out and convict the poor maid in a fib. Here, I said, he might be almost really not at home. So I put in an old grate, and made him a fire in the largest of these garrets,...
Page 126 - Autumn fills their beaks with corn, Filch'd from the careless Amalthea's horn ; And how the woods berries and worms provide Without their pains, when earth has nought beside To answer their small wants. To view the graceful deer come tripping by, Then stop, and gaze, then turn, they know not why, Like bashful younkers in society. To mark the structure of a plant or tree, And all fair things of earth, how fair they be.
Page 73 - PRINCE DORUS; or, FLATTERY PUT OUT OF COUNTENANCE: A Poetical Version of an Ancient Tale. Illustrated with a series of elegant engravings.
Page 29 - In him I have a loss the world cannot make up. He was my friend and my father's friend all the life I can remember. I seem to have made foolish friendships ever since. Those are friendships which outlive a second generation. Old as I am waxing, in his eyes I was still the child he first knew me. To the last he called me Charley. I have none to call me Charley now.