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" 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,... "
The beauties of modern British poetry, systematically arranged by D. Grant - الصفحة 233
المحررون: - 1871
عرض كامل - لمحة عن هذا الكتاب

The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal, المجلد 201

1905 - عدد الصفحات: 606
...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,...

The Edinburgh magazine, and literary miscellany, a new series of ..., المجلد 7

1820 - عدد الصفحات: 596
...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! ,.„,...

Spirit of the English Magazines, المجلد 10

1821 - عدد الصفحات: 488
...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...

Time's Telescope for ... ; Or, A Complete Guide to the Almanack

1823 - عدد الصفحات: 400
...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...

The cabinet; or The selected beauties of literature [ed. by J ..., المجلد 1

Cabinet - 1824 - عدد الصفحات: 440
...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. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down ; The voice...

The Every-day Book: Or Everlasting Calendar of Popular Amusements, Sports ...

William Hone - 1827 - عدد الصفحات: 858
...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...

Lord Byron and Some of His Contemporaries: With Recollections of ..., المجلد 1

Leigh Hunt - 1828 - عدد الصفحات: 512
...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...and clown : Perhaps the self-same song that found path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn ; The...

The Every-day Book and Table Book: Or, Everlasting Calendar of ..., المجلد 2

William Hone - 1830 - عدد الصفحات: 868
...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...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...

Abaddon, the Spirit of Destruction: And Other Poems

Sumner Lincoln Fairfield - 1830 - عدد الصفحات: 172
...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...

Abaddon, the Spirit of Destruction: And Other Poems

Sumner Lincoln Fairfield - 1830 - عدد الصفحات: 172
...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 that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears...




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