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What! dost thou pray that the outgone tide be rolled back on the strand, / The flame be rekindled that mounted away from the smouldering brand, …
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He was six years old, just six that day, / And I saw he had something important to say …
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I. / a Horse-shoe nailed, for luck, upon a mast; …
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The wind of Hampstead Heath still burns my cheek / As, home returned, I muse, and see arise …
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When in THE FIRST GREAT HOUR / WHEN in the first great hour of sleep supreme …
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How small a tooth hath mined the season’s heart! / How cold a touch hath set the wood on fire, …
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I / there was a rover from a western shore, …
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A white rose had a sorrow— / And a strange sorrow! …
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She was so little—little in her grave, / The wide earth all around so hard and cold— …
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When on my soul in nakedness / His swift, avertless hand did press, …
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Hath not the dark stream closed above thy head, / With envy of thy light, thou shining one? …
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Bind us the Morning, mother of the stars / And of the winds that usher in the day! …
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I know it must be winter (though I sleep)— / I know it must be winter, for I dream …