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I do not see why I should e'er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear.
As the hymnist so aptly wrote, "did e'er such love and sorrow meet.
XII O, when thou stoodst there, godlike, proud, and great, Pondering on conquest, majesty, and state, Who would have thought that e'er the time could be When a base senate should dishonor thee, And cavil o'er thine ashes, for Vendome At least is worthy to become thy tomb
It allows us to e'er a wider variety of products to our customer base.
Where e'er ye go, let yer wind gang free", wrote an uninhibited Rabbie.
THE BROWN JUG Dear Tom, this brown jug that now foams with mild ale, (In which I will drink to sweet Nan of the Vale) Was once Toby Fillpot, a thirsty old soul, As e'er drank a bottle, or fathomed a bowl; In boosing about 'twas his praise to excel, And among jolly topers he bore off the bell.
It read: "An honest man here lies at rest, As e'er God with his image blest.
In the course of the unfolding interaction, Junior makes a number of oblique but knowing references to King's reputation, declaring finally, "Ain't e'er young lady foiling after me, that you can catch a holt of' (405).
When Anaxarete rejects Iphis, she makes sure to point out their class differences: "But thou could nourish any flattering hope / One of my height in youth, in birth and fortune, / Could e'er descend to look upon thy lowness (3.
Director Struan Leslie, the RSC Head of Movement, admits: "Robert Burns in one of his poems describes the Song of Solomon as 'the smuttiest sang the e'er was sung'.
as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover
Bide on thy bench now, Reader, and think back Upon this foretaste, if the feast in store Thou wouldst enjoy ere relish tire and slack; And if imagination cannot run To heights like these, no wonder: no eye yet E'er braved a brilliance that outshone the sun.
Yet in secret hour came soft to me The sweetest song I e'er heard sing.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Ah, can they e'er forget How nobly strove those ranks of gray, When Hope's fair sun had set?
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