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Books Bücher 1 - 10 von 124 in Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death,...
" Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While... "
A Compendious History of English Literature, and of the English Language ... - Seite 505
von George Lillie Craik - 1861
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The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal, Band 201

1905
...love-poet's most perfect rhythm was mingled with its notes as he listened to the song, — ' Thou wert not born for death, Immortal Bird, No hungry generations tread thee down.' Amongst the ripples of every stream he caught echoes of Wordsworth's river sonnets, and whether alone,...
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The Edinburgh magazine, and literary miscellany, a new series of The Scots ...

1820
...ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth tby soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have eats in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! ,.„,...
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Spirit of the English Magazines, Band 10

1821
...mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die. To cease upon the midnight with no pain. While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still won lost thou sing, and I have ears in vain—- To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born...
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Time's Telescope for ... ; Or, A Complete Guide to the Almanack

1823
...mused rhyme, . To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wonldst thou siug, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born...
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The cabinet; or The selected beauties of literature [ed. by J. Aitken].

Cabinet - 1824
...mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, ' While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstacy ! Still would'st thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod. VII....
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The Every-day Book: Or Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports ...

William Hone - 1827
...cease opon the midnight with no pain, While thou ait pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstacy 1 Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod. Г. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird I No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice...
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The Every-day Book and Table Book: Or, Everlasting Calendar of ..., Band 2

William Hone - 1830
...mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring...ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod. 7. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird I No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice...
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Abaddon, the Spirit of Destruction: And Other Poems

Sumner Lincoln Fairfield - 1830 - 157 Seiten
...himself. What can be more distinct, beautiful, and true, than this address to the nightingale : — " Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice I heard this passing night, was heard In ancient days, by emperor and clown ; Perhaps the self same song...
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The every-day book and table-book; or, Everlasting calendar of popular ...

William Hone - 1837
...mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring...ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod. 7. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird I No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice...
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The Every-day Book and Table Book: Or, Everlasting Calendar of ..., Band 1

William Hone - 1837
...mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cfase upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy 1 Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod. r. Thou wast...
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