Cricket is an ancient pastime; it ripened sweetly, it has endured nobly.
Yiddish is a household tongue, and God, like other members of the family, is sweetly informal in it.
So sweetly she bade me adieu,I thought that she bade me return.william shenstone
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;Though yet no marble column cravesThe pilgrim here to pause.Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!There is no holier spot of groundThan where defeated valor lies,By mourning beauty crowned!henry timrod
Never had he felt the joy of the word more sweetly, never had he known so clearly that Eros dwells in language.thomas mann
How happy I would be if I could give figurative expression to the unconscious feeling that often murmurs so softly and sweetly within me.paula modersohn-becker
Yet could I these two days have spent, While still the autumn sweetly shone, Ah, me! I might have died content When I had looked on Carcassonne.gustave nadaud
How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman! It is so seldom heard that, when it speaks, It ravishes all senses.Philip Massinger
Quick as a humming bird is my love, Dipping into the hearts of flowers She darts so eagerly, swiftly, sweetly Dipping into the flowers of my heart.
What's this that myrrh doth still smell in thy kiss, And that with thee no other odour is? 'Tis doubt, my Postumus, he that doth smell So sweetly always, smells not very well.
Pity speaks to grief more sweetly than a band of instruments.
Oh, my Luve is like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June. O, my Luve is like the melodie, That's sweetly played in tune.Robert Burns
Yet, all beneath the unrivall'd rose, The lowly daisy sweetly blows; Tho' large the forest's monarch throws His army shade, Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows, Adown the glade.Robert Burns
The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended.william shakespeare
sweetly they slept On the blue fields of heaven, and then there crept A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sign that silence heaves.john keats
Under the linden, On the meadow, Where our bed arranged was, There now you may find e'en In the shadow Broken flowers and crushed grass. Near the woods, down in the vale, Tandaradi! sweetly sang the nightingale.
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