Fly not yet; 't is just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night And maids who love the moon.
Charles Lamb (1775 - 1834)
Source: Fly not yet.
Contributed by: Zaady
Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years,- One minute of heaven is worth them all.
Source: Paradise and the Peri.
Presents, I often say, endear absents.
Source: A Dissertation upon Roast Pig.
The red-letter days now become, to all intents and purposes, dead-letter days.
Source: Oxford in the Vacation.
I know not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart, I but know that I love thee whatever thou art.
Source: Come, rest in this Bosom.
Love on through all ills, and love on till they die.
Source: The Fire-Worshippers..
. . . who ran Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all.
Source: On the Death of Sheridan.
And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
Source: Ill Omens.
The moon looks On many brooks, "The brook can see no moon but this."
Source: While Gazing on the Moon's Light.
When did morning ever break, And find such beaming eyes awake?
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