dear (n.)
dear (v.)
dear (adv.)
dear (adj.)
- admired
- adored
- affectionate
- beloved
- cherished
- costly
- darling
- devoted
- doting
- esteemed
- expensive
- fancy
- favored
- favorite
- fond
- golden
- high
- high-priced
- honey
- honored
- inestimable
- invaluable
- love
- loved
- lover
- lovesome
- luxurious
- pet
- popular
- precious
- premium
- priceless
- pricey
- revered
- rich
- steep
- stiff
- sumptuous
- sweet
- sweetheart
- top
- treasured
- valuable
- valued
- white-haired
- worthy
Dear as remember'd kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd
On lips that are for others; deep as love,—
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret.
Oh death in life, the days that are no more!
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes;
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes;
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life;
Dear as these eyes, that weep in fondness o'er thee.
Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life;
Dear as these eyes, that weep in fondness o'er thee.
Who knows but life be that which men call death, And death what men call life?
Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just!
Shining nowhere but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark!
How happy could I be with either,
Were t' other dear charmer away!
Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way,
Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold.
She that asks
Her dear five hundred friends.
He has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.
Ah, youth! forever dear, forever kind.
If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies,
And they are fools who roam.
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own selves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.
Praising what is lost
Makes the remembrance dear.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
My dear, my better half.
King Stephen was a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear,—
With that he called the tailor lown.
King Stephen was a worthy peere,
His breeches cost him but a croune;
He held them sixpence all too deere,
Therefore he call'd the taylor loune.
He was a wight of high renowne,
And those but of a low degree;
Itt's pride that putts the countrye doune,
Then take thine old cloake about thee.
What needs my Shakespeare for his honour'd bones,—
The labour of an age in piled stones?
Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid
Under a star-y-pointing pyramid?
Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,
What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Enflamed with the study of learning and the admiration of virtue; stirred up with high hopes of living to be brave men and worthy patriots, dear to God, and famous to all ages.
For dear to gods and men is sacred song.
Self-taught I sing; by Heaven, and Heaven alone,
The genuine seeds of poesy are sown.
You are my true and honourable wife,
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.
The golden hours on angel wings
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Tho' lost to sight, to mem'ry dear
Thou ever wilt remain;
One only hope my heart can cheer,—
The hope to meet again.
Oh fondly on the past I dwell,
And oft recall those hours
When, wand'ring down the shady dell,
We gathered the wild-flowers.
Yes, life then seem'd one pure delight,
Tho' now each spot looks drear;
Yet tho' thy smile be lost to sight,
To mem'ry thou art dear.
Oft in the tranquil hour of night,
When stars illume the sky,
I gaze upon each orb of light,
And wish that thou wert by.
I think upon that happy time,
That time so fondly lov'd,
When last we heard the sweet bells chime,
As thro' the fields we rov'd.
Yes, life then seem'd one pure delight,
Tho' now each spot looks drear;
Yet tho' thy smile be lost to sight,
To mem'ry thou art dear.
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view.
