Leigh Hunt (1784 – 1859)
English poet and essayist.
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And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
and then we wake,
And hear the fruitful stream lapsing along
Twixt villages, and think how we shall take
Our own calm journey on for human sake.
It flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands,
Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream,
And times and things, as in that vision, seem
Keeping along it their eternal stands.
There are two worlds: the world that we can measure with line and rule, and the world we feel with our hearts and imagination.
The two divinest things this world has got,
A lovely woman in a rural spot!
...fishes do not roar; they cannot express any sound of suffering; and therefore the angler chooses to think they do not suffer, more than it is convenient for him to fancy. Now it is a poor sport that depends for its existence on the want of a voice in the sufferer, and of imagination in the sportsman. (Rev. ed., London, Smith, Elder & Co., 1889, pp114-5).
"I pray thee, then,
Write me as one who loves his fellow men".
With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks
To lie and read in, sloping into brooks.
Oh for a seat in some poetic nook,
Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook!
Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen, be your apples.
The same people who can deny others everything are famous for refusing themselves nothing.
She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled;
He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild:
The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place,
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face.
"By God!" said Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat:
"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that."
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