How sweet the milkmaid sung, As she sat beside her cow, How clear her wild notes rung; There's no music like it now. As I watch'd the ship's white sail 'Mid the sunbeams on the sea, Spreading canvas to the gale How I long'd with her to be. I thought not of the storm, Nor the wild cries on her deck, When writhed her graceful form 'Mid the hurricane and wreck.
And as he from the room withdrew, My heart his steps pursued; I long'd to prove, by efforts new; My speechless gratitude. When once again I took my place, Long vacant, in the class, Th' unfrequent smile across his face Did for one moment pass. The lessons done; the signal made Of glad release and play, He, as he passed, an instant stay'd, One kindly word to say.
"Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly long'd for death. 'Tis life whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not death, for which we pant; More life, and fuller, that I want."
"How long'd it take now, to get anything of that sort to do?" "I don't know at all. I believe there are a great many women journalists and sanitary inspectors, and black-and-white artists. But I suppose it takes time. Women, you know, edit most papers nowadays, George Egerton says. I ought, I suppose, to communicate with a literary agent." "Of course," said Hoopdriver, "it's very suitable work.
His thoughts were more sublime, his actions wise, Such vanityes he justly did despise. Nor wonder 'twas, low things n'er much did move For he a Mansion had, prepar'd above, For which he sigh'd and pray'd & long'd full sore He might be cloath'd upon, for evermore.
"Here Jake stopped a moment, presumably to reflect on the waywardness of Miss Dory and Mandy Ann caring for two skunks, one the Colonel and one Ted, whose last name I did not know till I asked Jake, who replied, 'Hamilton a right smart name, I'm told, an' 'long'd to de quality. Ole man Hamilton come from de norf somewhar, an' bought Ted's mother, a likely mulatto. Who his fader was I doan know.
An hour would make him very late, two hours would be fatal to his mission. He went up to the conductor and asked, "How long'd it take to walk to Wilkesbarre?" "That depends on how fast you can walk, sonny. Some men might do it in half or three quarters of an hour: you couldn't." And the man looked down, slightingly, on the boyish figure beside him. Ralph turned away in deep thought.
And I launch'd my little ship, With her sails and hold beneath; Deep laden on each trip, With berries from the heath. Ah, little did I know, When I long'd to be a man, Of the gloomy cares and woe, That meet in life's brief span. Oh, the happy nights I lay With my brothers in their beds, Where we soundly slept till day Shone brightly o'er our heads.
But alas! before we had left Avon mouth twenty minutes, 'twas another tale. For I lay on my side in that dark hold and long'd to die: and Delia sat up beside me, her hands in her lap, and her great eyes fix'd most dolefully.
It was not long after this, that Isabella walking in the Streets of Urbino, in the close of the Evening, a Foreign Count, of luscious Inclinations passing by her, gave her an amorous Look, and addressing her with a great deal of Complaisance, she seem'd for his Purpose, and indeed she long'd for a pleasing Variety, having met with no uncommon Adventure for a considerable Time.