Books > Old Books > Letters of Walter Savage Landor (1899)


Page 72

CHAPTER II
PRIVATE LETTERS 1840-1841

With a nymph by my side,
As blythe as a bride,
All the day thro'
And all the night too.
As we talk'd the whole day,
We had nothing to say,
Or little to think,
Ere in slumber we sink.
But this morn I'm as tired
As could be desired.
I, who boasted that naught
Can tire me, am caught.
No excuses to offer
Against you, fair scoffer !
` Will you permit me a little digression?'
Says Rose, `We have brought the old fox to confession !'
Pooh ! nonsense! all stuff!
Tho' I did not look gruff,
There was for confession little enough.
At Paris the quietest lady would laugh,
And the quietest man say `too little by half!'

I did not half praise the malle-fioste as I should.
In England no public conveyance so good ;
There is plenty of room for the feet and the knees,
And the arms on each side may extend as they please.
Whereas, in this matter, a thousand reproaches
May justly be cast on our cramping mail coaches.

And now to continue. Pursuing our way
From the Madeleine into the Rue St Honore,
What should I see,
Fixt upon me,
But those two bright eyes
Which confounded the wise,
And fix'd that FitzGerald, whom fifty beside
To fix or to soften

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE With a nymph by my side, As blythe as a bride, All what is day thro' And all what is night too. As we talk'd what is whole day, We had nothing to say, Or little to think, Ere in slumber we sink. But this morn I'm as tired As could be desired. I, who boasted that naught Can tire me, am caught. No excuses to offer Against you, fair scoffer ! ` Will you permit me a little digression?' Says Rose, `We have brought what is old fox to confession !' Pooh ! nonsense! all stuff! Tho' I did not look gruff, There was for confession little enough. At Paris what is quietest lady would laugh, And what is quietest man say `too little by half!' I did not half praise what is malle-fioste as I should. In England no public conveyance so good ; There is plenty of room for what is feet and what is knees, And what is arms on each side may extend as they please. Whereas, in this matter, a thousand reproaches May justly be cast on our cramping mail coaches. And now to continue. Pursuing our way From what is Madeleine into what is Rue St Honore, What should I see, Fixt upon me, But those two bright eyes Which confounded what is wise, And fix'd that FitzGerald, whom fifty beside To fix or to soften where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Letters of Walter Savage Landor (1899) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 72 where is p where is strong CHAPTER II PRIVATE LETTERS 1840-1841 where is p align="justify" With a nymph by my side, As blythe as a bride, All what is day thro' And all what is night too. As we talk'd what is whole day, We had nothing to say, Or little to think, Ere in slumber we sink. But this morn I'm as tired As could be desired. I, who boasted that naught Can tire me, am caught. No excuses to offer Against you, fair scoffer ! ` Will you permit me a little digression?' Says Rose, `We have brought what is old fox to confession !' Pooh ! nonsense! all stuff! Tho' I did not look gruff, There was for confession little enough. At Paris what is quietest lady would laugh, And the quietest man say `too little by half!' I did not half praise what is malle-fioste as I should. In England no public conveyance so good ; There is plenty of room for what is feet and what is knees, And what is arms on each side may extend as they please. Whereas, in this matter, a thousand reproaches May justly be cast on our cramping mail coaches. And now to continue. Pursuing our way From what is Madeleine into what is Rue St Honore, What should I see, Fixt upon me, But those two bright eyes Which confounded what is wise, And fix'd that FitzGerald, whom fifty beside To fix or to soften where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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