| 1824 - 436 str.
...dear to me : I wrapp'd him in his winding sheet, And strew'd him wixhibw'rs as frail and sweet. . л" My kindred are dead, my love is fled ; Courage, my...my cheek, my body is weak ;—? Courage, my heart, Ч».Щ soop be o'er. Dim are my eyes with tears of sorrow, They aciie for a night without a morrow.... | |
| 1828 - 814 str.
...the cold night dew Blasted the rose so dear to me. I wrapped him in his winding sheet, And strewed him with flowers as frail and sweet. My kindred are...Dim are my eyes, with tears of sorrow ; They ache Tor a night, without a morrow. THE LOVERS. As gilded barks that hover near The shores of sun-lit ocean,... | |
| Lyre - 1830 - 396 str.
...his fame to see ; But the death-storm blew, and the cold night dew Blasted the rose so dear to me. I wrapp'd him in his winding sheet, And strew'd him...of sorrow; They ache for a night, without a morrow. THE BECHUANA BOY. BY W. PRINGLE. The chief incidents of this little tale were related to tht author... | |
| Lyre - 1841 - 366 str.
...the cold night dew Blasted the rose so dear to me. 'I wrapped him in his winding sheet, And strewed him with flowers as frail and sweet. My kindred are...sorrow ; They ache for a night, without a morrow. THE BECHUANA BOY. BY THOMAS PRINGLE. The chief incidents of this little tale were related to the author... | |
| Lyre - 1841 - 374 str.
...I wrapped him in his winding sheet, And strewed him with flowers as frail and sweet. My kindred arc dead, my love is fled ; Courage, my heart, thou canst...sorrow ; They ache for a night, without a morrow. THE BECHUANA BOY. BY THOMAS PRINGLE. The chief incidents of this little tale were related to the author... | |
| Clarisse (pseud.) - 1862 - 304 str.
..." There was a great deal of bowing and raising of hats — Mr. Maxwell was introduced. CHAPTEE XT. My kindred are dead, my love is fled ; Courage, my heart, thou canst love no more-*Pale is my cheek, my body is weak, • Courage, my heart, 'twill soon be o'er. Dim are my eyes... | |
| James Grant - 1878 - 902 str.
...PARAGRAPH. "My kindred are dead, my love is fled; Courage, my beart, tliou canst love no moro Pule is my cheek, my body is weak; Courage, my heart, 'twill...of sorrow, They ache for a night without a morrow." — MNS It was towards the end of the month — the last days of October, now. The acorus were falling... | |
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