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" Yet now despair itself is mild Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek... "
Spirit of the English Magazines - Página 480
1824
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A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter

Thomas Shorter - 1861
...like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. SHELLEY. I HEARD the dogs bark in the moonlight night, And I went to the window to see the sight ;...
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The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Volumen 2

Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1862
...like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in...hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last nlonotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart,...
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Ephemera

George William Lyttelton Baron Lyttelton - 1865 - 377 páginas
...away the life of care * Poems, Paris Ed., p. 224. Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in...old, Insults with this untimely moan ; They might lament—for I am one Whom men love not, and yet regret, Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall...
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Gems of English Poetry: With Illustrations by Great Artists

English poetry - 1865 - 302 páginas
...like a tired child, And weep away the life of care, Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death, like sleep, might steal on me, And I might feel in...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. SHELLEY. VERSES. 'NTHINKING, idle, wild, and young, I laughed, and talked, and danced, and sung ; And,...
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The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley

Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1865 - 705 páginas
...like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the eea Breath o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this...
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Foliorum silvula, selections for translation into Latin and Greek verse, by ...

Hubert Ashton Holden - 1866
...like a tired child, and weep away the life of care which I have borne, and yet must bear till death like sleep might steal on me, and I might feel in...sea breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. PB SHELLEY 586 DELIA 'T'ELL me, my heart, fond slave of hopeless love, JL and doomed its woes wi.thout...
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The Nation and the Constitution: An Oration Delivered Before the City ...

Jeremiah Lewis Diman - 1866 - 23 páginas
...care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death like sleep should steal on me, And I might fuel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." Oh why was he not spared to us one summer more, that we might show him the sea? How all our coast 22...
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Songs of a Wanderer

Carroll Ryan - 1867 - 289 páginas
...dissolution blest I THE LAMENT OF ARMAND. " Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this swer t day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moan ; — " ****** « * * I live to show How much men bear, and die not." —Slietley. Beneath the shade...
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The Garland of Poetry for the Young: A Selection in Four Parts

Caroline Matilda Kirkland - 1868
...like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death, like sleep, might steal on me, And I might feel in...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. PB Shelley. CXI. THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP. " T3UILD me straight, O worthy Master 1 _D Stanch and strong,...
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A household book of English poetry, selected with notes by R.C. Trench

Richard Chenevix Trench (abp. of Dublin) - 1868
...a tired child, 30 And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea 35 Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this...
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