The International library of famous literature, selections from the world's great writers, ancient, mediaeval, and modern with biographical and explanatory notes and critical essays by many eminent writers . Monthly in 1841, andstarting Hoods Oxon in 1844. He died May 3, 1845. An eleven-volume editionof his works was issued 1882-1884. His fame rests chiefly on his matchless linesThe Song of the Shirt, The Bridge of Sighs, Fair Ines, A Deathbed, I Remember, Eugene Arams Dream, etc.; but his humorous pieces, likeThe Lost Heir, Ode to a Child, etc., the tragi-grotesque Miss Kilmaa-segg, and other
The International library of famous literature, selections from the world's great writers, ancient, mediaeval, and modern with biographical and explanatory notes and critical essays by many eminent writers . Monthly in 1841, andstarting Hoods Oxon in 1844. He died May 3, 1845. An eleven-volume editionof his works was issued 1882-1884. His fame rests chiefly on his matchless linesThe Song of the Shirt, The Bridge of Sighs, Fair Ines, A Deathbed, I Remember, Eugene Arams Dream, etc.; but his humorous pieces, likeThe Lost Heir, Ode to a Child, etc., the tragi-grotesque Miss Kilmaa-segg, and others, swell its volume.] ! drowned ! — Hamlet. One more unfortunate,AVeary of breath,Rashly importunate,Gone to her death! Take her up tenderly,Lift her with care;Fashioned so slenderly,Young, and so fair! Look at her garmentsClinging like cerements;Whilst the wave constantlyDrips from her clothing;Take her up instantly,Loving, not loathing. — Touch her not scornfully;Think of her mournfully,Gently and humanly;Not of the stains of that remains of herNow is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutinyInto her mutinyRash and undutiful:Past all dishonor,Death has left on herOnly the THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. 6573 Still, for all slips of hers,One of Eves family —Wipe those poor lips of hersOozing so clammily. Loop up her tressesEscaped from the comb,Her fair auburn tresses;Whilst wonderment guessesWhere was her home ? Who was her father ?Who was her mother ?Had she a sister ?Had she a brother ?Or was there a dearer onaStill, and a nearer oneYet, than all other ? Alas for the rarityOf Christian charityUnder the sun!0, it was pitiful!Near a whole city full,Home she had none. Sisterly, , motherlyFeelings had changed:Love, by harsh evidence,Thrown from its eminence jEven Gods providenceSeeming estranged. Where the lamps quiverSo far in the many a lightFrom window and casement,From garret to basement,She stood with amaz
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