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" O! wakened but to sleep, Whence it can wake no more! A thousand and a thousand silken leaves The tufted beech unfolds in early spring, All clad in tenderest green, All of the selfsame shape: A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet, Each year sends forth,... "
Phantasmion - Page 139
by Sara Coleridge Coleridge - 1837 - 387 pages
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Phantasmion

Sara Coleridge Coleridge - 1837 - 400 pages
...fate. , Ere those dear eyes had open'd on the light, In vain to plead, thy coming life was sold, 0 ! wakened but to sleep, Whence it can wake no more !...hath e'er conceived What love that face will bring. O sleep, my babe, nor heed how mourns the gale To part with thy soft locks and fragrant breath. As...
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The Quarterly Review, Volume 66

William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle) - 1840 - 650 pages
...leaves The tufted beech unfolds in early spring, All clad in tenderest green, All of the self-same shape : A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet, Each...forth, yet every mother views Her last, not least, belov'd Like its dear self alone. No musing mind hath ever yet foreshaped The face to-morrow's sun...
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The Quarterly Review, Volume 66

William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle) - 1840 - 658 pages
...infant faces, soft and sweet, Each year sends forth, yet every mother views Her last, not least, belov'd Like its dear self alone. No musing mind hath ever...to-morrow's sun shall first reveal, No heart hath e'er conceiv'd What love that face will bring. O sleep, my babe ! nor heed how mourns the gale To part with...
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The British Female Poets

George Washington Bethune - 1848 - 526 pages
...leaves The tufted beach unfolds in early spring, All clad in tenderest green, All of the self-same shape : A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet, Each...hath e'er conceived What love that face will bring. O sleep, my babe ! nor heed how mourns the gale To part with thy soft locks and fragrant breath, As...
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The British Female Poets

George Washington Bethune - 1848 - 520 pages
...and a thousand silken leaves The tufted beach unfolds in early spring, All clad in tenderest green, A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet, Each year...hath e'er conceived What love that face will bring. O sleep, my babe ! nor heed how mourns the gale To part with thy soft locks and fragrant breath, As...
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The Oxford Book of English Verse, 1250-1900

Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch - 1901 - 1190 pages
...leaves The tufted beech unfolds in early spring, All clad in tenderest green, All of the self-same shape: A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet, Each...hath e'er conceived What love that face will bring. O sleep, my babe, nor heed how mourns the gale To part with thy soft locks and fragrant breath, As...
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A Book of English Verse on Infancy and Childhood

Leonard Southerden Wood - 1921 - 396 pages
...leaves The tufted beech unfolds in early spring, All clad in tenderest green, All of the self-same shape : A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet, Each...hath e'er conceived What love that face will bring. O sleep, my babe, nor heed how mourns the gale To part with thy soft locks and fragrant breath, As...
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A Book of Women's Verse

Sir John Collings Squire - 1921 - 232 pages
...leaves The tufted beech unfolds in early spring, All clad in tenderest green, All of the self-same shape ; A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet, Each...Her last not least beloved Like its dear self alone. Its musing mind hath ever yet foreshaped The face to-morrow's sun shall first reveal, No heart hath...
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The Quarterly Review, Volume 66

William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle) - 1840 - 650 pages
...leaves The tufted beech unfolds in early spring, All clad in tenderest green, All of the self-same shape : A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet, Each...forth, yet every mother views Her last, not least, belov'd Like its dear self alone. No musing mind hath ever yet foreshaped The face to-morrow's sun...
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