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Books Books 1 - 10 of 165 on Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down....
" 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... "
The New Monthly Magazine - Page 314
edited by - 1824
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The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, Volume 94

1824
...winds and waters are ; I could He 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...warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet day...
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Spirit of the English Magazines

1824
...like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear. Till deatb like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in...warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet day...
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The New monthly magazine and universal register. [Continued as ..., Volume 31

...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,...warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Alas ! the coming event had indeed cast its shadow before. The...
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Posthumous Poems

Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1824 - 415 pages
...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...warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet day...
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Knight's Quarterly Magazine, Volume 3

Charles Knight - English fiction - 1824
...; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the load of care Which I have borne and still must bear, Till death, like sleep, might steal on...warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er rny dying brain its last monotony. Sonic might lament when I were cold, As I when this sweet day...
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The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, Volume 94

English literature - 1824
...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 check grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament...
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The New Annual Register, Or General Repository of History, Politics, and ...

English poetry - 1825
...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 sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. " Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet...
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Miscellaneous Poems

Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1826 - 144 pages
...and waters are ; t could lie down like a tired child, An.i weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might...air My cheek, grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet day...
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The poetical album; and register of modern fugitive poetry, ed. by A.A. Watts

Alaric Alexander Watts - 1828
...waters are ; • I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away this life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death, like sleep, might...warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet day...
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The Poetical Album: And Register of Modern Fugitive Poetry

Alaric Alexander Watts - Electronic book - 1828 - 395 pages
...and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away this life of care, Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death, like sleep, might...warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet day...
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