1 I half lost the sense of power over him.
2 He lost his elder brother a few years since.
3 The other eye inflamed: he lost the sight of that also.
4 I thought I had taken a wrong direction and lost my way.
5 Yes: for her restoration I longed, far more than for that of my lost sight.
6 Meantime, the afternoon advanced, while I thus wandered about like a lost and starving dog.
7 He moaned so, and looked so weak, wild, and lost, I feared he was dying; and I might not even speak to him.
8 St. John called me to his side to read; in attempting to do this my voice failed me: words were lost in sobs.
9 The cavalcade, following the sweep of the drive, quickly turned the angle of the house, and I lost sight of it.
10 He wrote again a few weeks since, to intimate that the heiress was lost, and asking if we knew anything of her.
11 The whole consciousness of my life lorn, my love lost, my hope quenched, my faith death-struck, swayed full and mighty above me in one sullen mass.
12 Not a moment could be lost: the very sheets were kindling, I rushed to his basin and ewer; fortunately, one was wide and the other deep, and both were filled with water.
13 Yet a chance traveller might pass by; and I wish no eye to see me now: strangers would wonder what I am doing, lingering here at the sign-post, evidently objectless and lost.
14 I know poetry is not dead, nor genius lost; nor has Mammon gained power over either, to bind or slay: they will both assert their existence, their presence, their liberty and strength again one day.
15 I sat down on the narrow ledge; I hushed the scared infant in my lap: you turned an angle of the road: I bent forward to take a last look; the wall crumbled; I was shaken; the child rolled from my knee, I lost my balance, fell, and woke.
16 On the hill-top above me sat the rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but brightening momentarily, she looked over Hay, which, half lost in trees, sent up a blue smoke from its few chimneys: it was yet a mile distant, but in the absolute hush I could hear plainly its thin murmurs of life.
17 One evening, in the beginning of June, I had stayed out very late with Mary Ann in the wood; we had, as usual, separated ourselves from the others, and had wandered far; so far that we lost our way, and had to ask it at a lonely cottage, where a man and woman lived, who looked after a herd of half-wild swine that fed on the mast in the wood.
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