 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...  Literary Leaves - Page 93by David Lester Richardson - 1840Full view - About this book
 | 1835 - 606 pages
...bear, Till death, like sleep, might steal on me, And I might fefl in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony ! And the second is beaded " Mutability," a beautiful little piece. Shelley has been called an atheist:... | |
 | James Anthony Froude, John Tulloch - 1853 - 770 pages
...bear, Till death like sleep might seize on me, And I might feel in the warm air, My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony !' . . . Too beautiful to laugh at, however empty and sentimental. True ; but why beautiful? Because... | |
 | Samuel Longfellow - 1853 - 228 pages
...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 Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon... | |
 | Frederick Edward Gretton - 1853 - 152 pages
...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 Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet day is gone, "Which my lost heart, too soon... | |
 | Samuel Longfellow - 1853 - 228 pages
...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 Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon... | |
 | John Holmes Agnew, Walter Hilliard Bidwell - 1854 - 608 pages
...bear, Till death like sleep might seize on me, And I might feel, in the warm air, My cheek grow cold, irst hope !" Too beautiful to laugh at, however empty and sentimental. True; but why beautiful? Because there... | |
 | 1854 - 768 pages
...hear, Till death, like deep, might Meal on uic, And I uiiffht feel in the warm air My cheek prow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." But the ground was very damp, the rain was pelting, and the air quite cold, and I soon awoke again... | |
 | Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1855 - 770 pages
...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 Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon... | |
 | Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1855 - 766 pages
...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 Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon... | |
 | Charles Mitchell Charles - 1855 - 322 pages
...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 Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Shelley. WHILE Sir Herve de Leon was reading despatches from the enemy — his eye eager, his heart... | |
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