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" Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down ; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own ; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. "
The woman of genius [by mrs. Ross]. - Page 197
by mrs. Ross - 1821
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The Complete Poetical Works of Lord Byron

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - 1905 - 1055 pages
...o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 't is where the ice appears. d before. That spell upon the minds of men Breaks...adore Those Pagod things of sabre sway, With fron T is but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn...
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The Complete Poetical Works of Lord Byron

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - 1905 - 1055 pages
...mirth distract the breast, Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest; T IB th. — I know no more — my latest dream Is something...lovely star Which flx'd my dull eyes from afar, And Oh could I feel as I have felt, — or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er...
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The Complete Poetical Works of Lord Byron

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - 1905 - 1055 pages
...o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 't is where the ice appears. ? — I will not tire 'Vith long recital of the rest,...became the Cossack's guest. Phey found me sensele die. " I ' is but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without,...
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The Poets and the Poetry of the Nineteenth Century, Volume 2

Alfred Henry Miles - English poetry - 1905 - 595 pages
...frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract...former hope of rest ; 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath. Oh could I feel...
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The Complete Poetical Works of Lord Byron

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - Poetry - 1907 - 1314 pages
...frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. on Byron ruined turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath. Oh, could I feel...
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Selections from Byron: The Prisoner of Chillon, Mazeppa, and Other Poems

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - 1907 - 101 pages
...o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 't is where the ice appears. IV Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract...hours that yield no more their former hope of rest ; 'T is but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but...
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The Complete Poetical Works of Lord Byron

George Gordon Byron Baron Byron - Poetry - 1907 - 1314 pages
...midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest; 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath. Oh, could I feel as I have felt, — or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er...
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Palgrave's Golden Treasury

1908 - 551 pages
...frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract...; 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreathe, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and gray beneath. O could I feel as I have felt,...
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The Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics, with Notes

Francis Turner Palgrave - English poetry - 1908 - 437 pages
...o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. 5 Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract...rest; 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreathe, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and gray beneath. Oh could I feel as I have felt,...
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Other Days: Being Chronicles and Memories of the Stage

William Winter - Actors - 1908 - 375 pages
...Byron, — never more appropriate than when applied to the experience of that Yorick of the stage : Though wit may flash from fluent lips and mirth distract...yield no more their former hope of rest, 'Tis but as ivy leaves around the ruined turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without but worn and gray beneath....
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