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An Arab, by his earnest gaze, Has clothed a lovely maid with blushes; A smile within his eyelids plays And into words his longing gushes.

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, Half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, And flare up bodily, wings and all.

So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!

Blushed like the waves of hell.

'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.

Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.

We griev'd, we sigh'd, we wept; we never blushed before.

I pity bashful men, who feel the pain Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, And bear the marks upon a blushing face, OF needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace.

Once he saw a youth blushing, and addressed him, "Courage, my boy; that is the complexion of virtue."

A blush is no language: only a dubious flag-signal which may mean either of two contradictories.

The rising blushes, which her cheek o'er-spread, Are opening roses in the lily's bed.

The blush is beautiful, but it is sometimes convenient.

Blushing is the colour of virtue.

Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.

Men blush less for their crimes than for their weaknesses and vanity.

Innocence is not accustomed to blush.

While mantling on the maiden's cheek Young roses kindled into thought.

From every blush that kindles in thy cheeks, Ten thousand little loves and graces spring To revel in the roses.

I will go wash; And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no.

I ask, that I might waken reverence, And bid the cheek be ready with a blush Modest as morning when she coldly eyes The youthful Phoebus, Which is that god in office, guiding men?