THE DEATH BED. by T. HOOD.
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| THE DEATH BED. | |
| 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. But when the morn came dim and sad And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed--she had Another morn than ours. |
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| T. HOOD., THE GOLDEN TREASURY Of the best Songs and Lyrical Pieces In the English Language Selected by Francis Turner Palgrave | |
| Notes: Two intermediate stanzas have been here omitted. They are very ingenious, but, of all poetical qualities, ingenuity is least in accordance with pathos. PALGRAVE'S NOTES. |
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