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Книги Книги 7180 от 189 за 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... "
The casquet of literature, a selection in poetry and prose, ed. with notes ... - Страница 18
по Casket - 1874
Пълен достъп - Информация за книгата

The Eclectic Review, Том 3; Том 107

William Hendry Stowell - 1858
...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 must bear, Till death,...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...

The Poets of the Nineteenth Century

Robert Aris Willmott, Evert Augustus Duyckinck - 1858 - 397 страници
...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,...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...

Titan

Titan - 1858
...other lines 'most musical, most melancholy,' where he wishes he could lie down like a tired child, ' Till death, like sleep, might steal on me, And I might...in the warm air, My cheek grow cold, and hear the aea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.' Poor Shelley ! how glorious a spirit dwelt in him...

The Poets of the Nineteenth Century

Evert Augustus Duyckinck - 1858 - 397 страници
...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...

Shelley memorials: from authentic sources, ed. by lady Shelley. To which is ...

lady Jane Shelley - 1859
...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,...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." But this dejection — the result of many causes — gave place to a happier mood before the poet was...

Shelley Memorials: From Authentic Sources

Lady Jane Gibson Shelley - 1859 - 290 страници
...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,...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." But this dejection — the result of many causes — gave place to a happier mood before the poet was...

Shelley Memorials: From Authentic Sources

Lady Jane Gibson Shelley - 1859 - 308 страници
...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,...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." But this dejection — the result of many causes — gave place to a happier mood before the poet was...

The Shirburnian, Том 1, Брой 1

1859
...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...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." — Shelley. Ah "hope deferred" is wearing pain ! The wanderer passeth to the sea — Long years of...

Miscellanies, Том 1

Charles Kingsley - 1859
...away this life of care, Which I have borne, and still must bear, Till death like sleep might seize on me, And I might feel in the warm air, My cheek...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony! . . Too beautiful to laugh at, however empty and sentimental. True : but why beautiful ? Because there...

New miscellanies

Charles Kingsley - 1860 - 375 страници
...away this life of care, Which I have borne, and still must bear, Till death like sleep might seize on me, And I might feel in the warm air, My cheek...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony! . . Too beautiful to laugh at, however empty and sentimental. True ; but why beautiful ? Because there...




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