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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... "
Lord Byron and Some of His Contemporaries: With Recollections of the Author ... - Page 364
by Leigh Hunt - 1828 - 494 pages
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The Poets of the Nineteenth Century

Robert Aris Willmott - American poetry - 1857 - 426 pages
...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...bear, Till death, like sleep, might steal on me, And 1 might feel in the warm air My cheek grow wet, aud hear the sea Hrcathe o'er my dying brain its last...
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The Poets of the Nineteenth Century, Volume 1808

Robert Aris Willmott - American poetry - 1857 - 436 pages
...like sleep, might steal on me, And 1 might feel in the warm air My cheek grow wet, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I was cold, As I, when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with...
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Eclectic and Congregational Review

1858 - 812 pages
...pleasure ; To me that cup has been dealt in another measure. " Yet now despair itself is mild, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet...might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My chock grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. " Some might lament...
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The Poets of the Nineteenth Century

Robert Aris Willmott, Evert Augustus Duyckinck - American poetry - 1858 - 642 pages
...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...might steal on me. And I might feel in the warm air Some might lament that I was cold, As I, when this sweet day is gone, • Which my lost heart, too...
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The College Magazine:, Volume 1

English literature - 1858 - 398 pages
...as might be expected, but with a tone of patient resignation : — " Yet now despair itself is mild, Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death...steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek fever cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." " Some might lament that...
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The Poets of the Nineteenth Century

Robert Aris Willmott, Evert Augustus Duyckinck - American poetry - 1858 - 644 pages
...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 inc. And I might feel in the warm air Some might lament that I was cold, As I, when this sweet day...
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Shelley memorials: from authentic sources, ed. by lady Shelley. To which is ...

lady Jane Shelley - 1859 - 340 pages
...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...feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." But this dejection — the result of many causes...
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Shelley Memorials: From Authentic Sources

lady Jane (Gibson) Shelley - Poets, English - 1859 - 312 pages
...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...feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." But this dejection — the result of many causes...
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Shelley Memorials, from Authentic Sources: To which is Added an Essay on ...

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley - 1859 - 338 pages
...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...feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." But this dejection — the result of many causes...
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The Shirburnian, Volume 1, Issue 1

College student newspapers and periodicals - 1859 - 244 pages
...are ; I could lie down like a tired child And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and jet must bear, "Till Death, like sleep, might steal on...feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." — Shelley. Ah "hope deferred" is wearing pain...
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