You May Also Like / View all maxioms
I pity bashful men, who feel the pain
Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain,
And bear the read more
I pity bashful men, who feel the pain
Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain,
And bear the marks upon a blushing face,
OF needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace.
We griev'd, we sigh'd, we wept; we never blushed before.
We griev'd, we sigh'd, we wept; we never blushed before.
From every blush that kindles in thy cheeks,
Ten thousand little loves and graces spring
To revel read more
From every blush that kindles in thy cheeks,
Ten thousand little loves and graces spring
To revel in the roses.
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.
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."
His kindled duty kindled her mistrust,
That two red fires in both faces blazed.
She thought he read more
His kindled duty kindled her mistrust,
That two red fires in both faces blazed.
She thought he blushed as knowing Tarquin's lust,
And, blushing with him, wistly on him gazed;
Her earnest eye did make him more amazed.
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!
The rising blushes, which her cheek o'er-spread,
Are opening roses in the lily's bed.
The rising blushes, which her cheek o'er-spread,
Are opening roses in the lily's bed.
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.