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A winning wave, (deserving note.)
In the tempestuous petticote,
A careless shoe-string, in whose tye
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A winning wave, (deserving note.)
In the tempestuous petticote,
A careless shoe-string, in whose tye
I see a wilde civility,--
Doe more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.
She wears her clothes as if they were thrown on her with a
pitchfork.
She wears her clothes as if they were thrown on her with a
pitchfork.
Dresses for breakfasts, and dinners, and balls.
Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in;
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Dresses for breakfasts, and dinners, and balls.
Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in;
Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in,
Dresses in which to do nothing at all;
Dresses for Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall;
All of them different in color and shape.
Silk, muslin, and lace, velvet, satin, and crape,
Brocade and broadcloth, and other material,
Quite as expensive and much more ethereal.
If most of us are ashamed of shabby clothes and shoddy furniture,
let us be more ashamed of shabby read more
If most of us are ashamed of shabby clothes and shoddy furniture,
let us be more ashamed of shabby ideas and shoddy
philosophies. . . . It would be a sad situation if the wrapper
were better than the meat wrapped inside it.
Attired to please herself: no gems of any kind
She wore, nor aught of borrowed gloss in Nature's stead;
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Attired to please herself: no gems of any kind
She wore, nor aught of borrowed gloss in Nature's stead;
And, then her long, loose hair flung round her head
Fell carelessly behind.
Her polish'd limbs,
Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire;
Beyond the pomp of dress; for read more
Her polish'd limbs,
Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire;
Beyond the pomp of dress; for Loveliness
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,
But is, when unadorn'd the most.
Be pain in dress, and sober in your diet;
In short, my deary, kiss me! and be quiet.
Be pain in dress, and sober in your diet;
In short, my deary, kiss me! and be quiet.
Fare you well, my lord, and believe this of me: there can be no
kernel in this light nut; read more
Fare you well, my lord, and believe this of me: there can be no
kernel in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes.
Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence.
