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181
Thren VII.
Thou angel child! thy mournful dress before me
Throws bitterer sorrow o'er me;
Thy little ornaments of joy & gladness
Kindle a deeper sadness –
No more arrayed in your gay glories, lustre –
And hope is fled for ever
A sleep – a hard – and iron sleep, hath doth bound thee
And morning ne'r shall find thee
Thy golden belt is dim – thy flower-wreathed tresses
Scattered – Thy summer dresses
Which thy poor mother wrought – she had arrayed thee
For joy love – and we have laid thee
In the tomb's bridal bed – &and now thy dower
Is a funeral flower
A little shroud – a grave. Sweet child! thy father
Fragments of such merit gather
and scatter ver sprinkle on thy brow – Death's dormitory
Holds thee & all thy glory
Identifier: | JB/110/079/003 "JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.
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110 |
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079 |
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003 |
kochanowsky / do snu / to sleep |
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collectanea |
3 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
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36069 |
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