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The stars stars that sparkled o'er him
The streams that flowed before him
Move on – tho' he is fled
The flowers he watched are blooming
The trees he planted growing:-
But he their 'Sovran Lord' is dead
What is the lily stronger
And can the rose last longer
Than this proud frame of ours?
Man's breath the north-wind freezes
And even the Zephyr's breezes
Can chill his heart & crush his powers.
Dewy the morning sprinkled –
Leaf of the noon – tide wrinkled
And sinking into clay:
A father The scattered – gracious father!
Thy mortal children gather
Note Thy fold of endless day.
Identifier: | JB/110/192/001 "JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.
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110 |
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192 |
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001 |
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collectanea |
2 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
[[watermarks::[partial motif]]] |
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36182 |
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