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" Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While... "
The Every-day Book and Table Book: Or, Everlasting Calendar of Popular ... - Page 253
by William Hone - 1837
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Selections from the British Poets: From Beattie to Campbell

English poetry - 1843
...cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not bom for death, immortal bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice I hear...
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Sketches of the History of Literature and Learning in England ..., Volumes 5-6

George Lillie Craik - English language - 1845
...mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To seize upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring...ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; * Shelley had...
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The Living Age ..., Volume 206

1895
...time I have been half in love with easeful death. Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Doubly welcome as the solution of all life's riddles is the idea of death, but to Keats it is no...
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Cyclopędia of English Literature: A History, Critical and ..., Volume 2

Robert Chambers - English literature - 1844
...cease upon the midnight with no pain, While them art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstacy t blended with the lights of eve ; Ana she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genev Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice I hear...
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Cyclopędia of English literature, Volume 2

Robert Chambers - 1844
...mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease t $ ccstacy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in Tain — To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou...
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Sharpe's London magazine, a journal of entertainment and ..., Volumes 2-3

Anna Maria Hall
...numberless Singest of summer in full-throated eaw. . . Now, more than ever, it scems rieli to dic, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an eatacy I Still would'st thou sing, and I have ears in vain — ' To thy hu'lt requicm become a sod....
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Imagination and Fancy: Or, Selections from the English Poets, Illustrative ...

Leigh Hunt - English poetry - 1845 - 255 pages
...mused rhyme To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstacy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou...
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Imagination and Fancy: Or, Selections from the English Poets, Illustrative ...

Leigh Hunt - English poetry - 1845 - 255 pages
...mused rhyme To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstacy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou...
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Imagination and Fancy: Or, Selections from the English Poets, Illustrative ...

Leigh Hunt - English poetry - 1845 - 255 pages
...mused rhyme To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstacy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou...
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The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - Authors, English - 1845 - 504 pages
...mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath. Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an eestasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain, To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou...
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