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Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
That banish what read more
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will,
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindess shall his death draw out
To ling'ring sufferance.
Once he saw a youth blushing, and addressed him, "Courage, my
boy; that is the complexion of virtue."
Once he saw a youth blushing, and addressed him, "Courage, my
boy; that is the complexion of virtue."
An Arab, by his earnest gaze,
Has clothed a lovely maid with blushes;
A smile within his read more
An Arab, by his earnest gaze,
Has clothed a lovely maid with blushes;
A smile within his eyelids plays
And into words his longing gushes.
Where now I have no one to blush with me,
To cross their arms and hang their heads with read more
Where now I have no one to blush with me,
To cross their arms and hang their heads with mine,
To mask their brows and hide their infamy;
But I alone, alone must sit and pine,
Seasoning the earth with show'rs of silver brine,
Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with groans,
Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans.
I have marked
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
read more
I have marked
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness beat away those blushes,
And in her eye there hath appeared a fire
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth.
While mantling on the maiden's cheek
Young roses kindled into thought.
While mantling on the maiden's cheek
Young roses kindled into thought.
So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest read more
I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phoebus,
Which is that god in office, guiding men?