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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 - Pagina 480
1824
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The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: Including Various ..., Volume 2

Percy Bysshe Shelley, William Michael Rossetti - 1870 - 616 pagine
...the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. v. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this...They might lament — for I am one Whom men love not, andjyet regret ; Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger,...
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Poetical Works

Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1870 - 616 pagine
...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. 5. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon...
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The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: Complete in One Volume

Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1871 - 715 pagine
...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 sea Breath o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this sweet...
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A Library of Poetry and Song: Being Choice Selections from the Best Poets

William Cullen Bryant - 1872 - 789 pagine
...borne, and yet must bear, 228 TilJ death like sleep might steal on me, And 1 might frei in the wann st how In those old days, one summer noon, an arm Hose up from out the bosom of the lak PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. BYRON'S LATEST VERSES. CMissoloachi. January 33, 1834. On this day I completed...
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Encyclopaedia of English and American Poetry: From Caedmon and King Alfred's ...

Samuel Orchart Beeton - 1873
...like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear, Till death Shelley.— Born 1792, Died 1822. 1370.— OZYMANDIAS OP EGYPT. I met a traveller from an antique land...
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A Library of Poetry and Song: Being Choice Selections from the Best Poets

William Cullen Bryant - 1873 - 789 pagine
...SOiŁiOW AND ADVERSITY. -a Till death like sleep might steal on me, And 1 might feel in the wann air Jly ng Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong ; — for with her d PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. BYRON'S LATEST VERSES. [Minokngihi. January 33, 184. On this day I completed...
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The casquet of literature, a selection in poetry and prose, ed. with notes ...

Casket - 1874
...a tired child, And weep away the life of cure Which I have borne and yet must bear. — Till death like sleep might steal on me. And I might feel in...last monotony Some might lament that I were cold, AH I, when this sweet day is gone. Which my lost heart, too soon grown i>M, Insults with this untimely...
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Songs of Three Centuries

John Greenleaf Whittier - 1875 - 352 pagine
...child, And weeti away the life of care Which 1 have borne, and yet must hear, Till death like deep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. TO A SKYLARK. HAIL to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou never wort, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest...
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Songs of Three Centuries

John Greenleaf Whittier - 1875 - 352 pagine
...the life of care Which I have borne, and yet mnsthear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And 1 might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its hist monotony. TO A SKYLARK. HAH to thee, blithe spirit 1 Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or...
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A NEW LIBRARY OF POETRY AND SONG

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT - 1876
...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. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. MY SHIP. DOWN to the wharves, as the sun goes down, And the daylight's tumult...
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