I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in heaven Yet certain am I of the spot As if the chart were given.
I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in heaven Yet certain am I of the spot As if the chart were given.
Your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.
We should not moor a ship with one anchor, or our life with one hope.
And then for her
To win the Moor, were't to renounce his baptism,
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,
His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,
That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
Even as her appetite shall play the god
With his weak function.
Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, I die, I die.
To such, if they should whisper
Of morning and the moor,
They bear no other errand,
And I, no other prayer.
The gentle Lady married to the Moor, And heavenly Una with her milk-white lamb.
Look at Sir Charles's death That was bad enough, for all that the coroner said. Look at the noises on the moor at night. There's not a man would cross it after sundown if he was paid for it. Look at this stranger hiding out yonder, and watching and waiting What's he waiting for What does it mean It means no good to anyone of the name of Baskerville . . .
When
the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be,
again to inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite,
loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, manners, and beauties-
all which the Moor is defective in.
That I did love the Moor to live with him,
My downright violence and storm of fortunes
May trumpet to the world.
Which thing to do,
If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb
(For I fear Cassio with my nightcap too),
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me
For making him egregiously an ass
And practicing upon his peace and quiet
Even to madness.
Mark me
with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging and
telling her fantastical lies.
Christmas and New Year Bells The time draws near the birth of Christ The moon is hid the night is still The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist. Four voices of four hamlets round, From far and near, on mead and moor, Swell o.
There came to port last Sunday night the queerest little craft, without an inch of rigging on; I looked and looked - and laughed. It seemed so curious that she should cross the unknown water, and moor herself within my room - my daughter! O my daughter!
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
To be produced- as, if I stay, I shall-
Against the Moor; for I do know, the state,
However this may gall him with some check,
Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,
Which even now stands in act, that, for their souls,
Another of his fathom they have none
To lead their business; in which regard,
Though I do hate him as I do hell pains,
Yet for necessity of present life,
I must show out a flag and sign of love,
Which is indeed but sign.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories