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Excerpt from Autumn Alone, alone, Upon a mossy stone, She sits and reckons up the dead and gone With the last leaves for a love-rosary, Thomas Hood |
Death IT is not death, that sometime in a sigh This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight; That sometime these bright stars, that now reply In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night; Thom |
Silence THERE is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be, In the cold grave--under the deep, deep sea, Or in wide desert where no life is found, Which hath been mute, |
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The Deathbed WE watch'd her breathing thro' the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. Thomas Hood |
The World Is With Me The world is with me, and its many cares, Its woes--its wants--the anxious hopes and fears Thomas Hood |
Time of Roses It was not in the Winter Our loving lot was cast; It was the time of roses— We pluck'd them as we pass'd! Thomas Hood |
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