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A blush is no language: only a dubious flag-signal which may
mean either of two contradictories.
A blush is no language: only a dubious flag-signal which may
mean either of two contradictories.
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."
While mantling on the maiden's cheek
Young roses kindled into thought.
While mantling on the maiden's cheek
Young roses kindled into thought.
Innocence is not accustomed to blush.
[Fr., L'innocence a rougir n'est point accoutumee.]
Innocence is not accustomed to blush.
[Fr., L'innocence a rougir n'est point accoutumee.]
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.
Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To bear her secrets so bewrayed.
Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To bear her secrets so bewrayed.
Men blush less for their crimes than for their weaknesses and
vanity.
[Fr., Les hommes rougissent moins de read more
Men blush less for their crimes than for their weaknesses and
vanity.
[Fr., Les hommes rougissent moins de leur crimes que de leurs
faiblesses et de leur vanite.]
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.
I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest read more
I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phoebus,
Which is that god in office, guiding men?