Mamma heard me with scorn and prid… A wretched beggar—boy deride. ‘Do you not know,’ said I, 'how m… It is to be thus begging seen? If for a week I were not fed,

SISTER. Do, my dearest brother John, Let that butterfly alone. BROTHER. What harm now do I do?

Shut these odious books up, brothe… They have made you quite another Thing from what you used to be: Once you liked to play with me, Now you leave me all alone,

A dozen years since in this house… What bustle, what stir, and what j… Every soul in the family at my dev… When into the world I came twelve… I’ve been told by my friends (if t…

An author who has given you all de… Furnished the tale our stage prese… Some of our earliest tears he taug… Down our young cheeks, and forced… To solitary shores whole years con…

O hush, my little baby brother; Sleep, my love, upon my knee. What though, dear child, we’ve los… That can never trouble thee. You are but ten weeks old to—morro…

Lucy, what do you espy In the cast in Jenny’s eye That should you to laughter move? I far other feelings prove. When on me she does advance

My father’s grandfather lives stil… His age is fourscore years and ten… He looks a monument of time, The agedest of aged men. Though years lie on him like a loa…

Come, my little Robert, near— Fie! what filthy hands are here— Who that e’er could understand The rare structure of a hand, With its branching fingers fine,

Time—mouldering crosses, gemmed wi… Of costliest work and Gothic trac… Point still the spot, to hallowed… Where rested on its solemn way the… That bore the bones of Edward’s E…

A bird appears a thoughtless thing… He’s ever living on the wing, And keeps up such a carolling, That little else to do but sing A man would guess had he.

Queen—bird, that sittest on thy sh… And thy young cygnets without sorr… And thou, thou other royal bird, t… Lest the white mother wandering fe… Shrined are your offspring in a cr…

Friend of my earliest years and ch… My joys, my sorrows, thou with me… Companion dear, and we alike have… (Poor pilgrims we) through life’s… It were unwisely done, should we r…

On a bank with roses shaded, Whose sweet scent the violets aide… Violets whose breath alone Yields but feeble smell or none, (Sweeter bed Jove ne’er repos’d o…

My parents sleep both in one grave… My only friend’s a brother. The dearest things upon the earth We are to one another. A fine stout boy I knew him once,