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Don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt? Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown; Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile, And trembled with fear at your frown!
— Thomas Dunn English
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Your eyes were filled with love, Kate Vane; Ah, would that we were young again!
When greater perils men environ, Then women show a front of iron; And, gentle in their manner, they Do bold things in a quiet way.
He said...that we had had niggers like oysters at a feast, "fried, stewed, raw, roasted, and sometimes like Page's 'Venus,' on the half shell."
He said, in the course of his remarks, that we had had niggers like oysters at a feast, "fried, stewed, raw, roasted, and sometimes like Page's 'Venus,' on the half shell."
That was a day of delight and wonder. While lying the shade of the maple trees under— He felt the soft breeze at its frolicksome play; He smelled the sweet odor of newly mown hay.
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