The Dream (Lord Byron Poem)
I Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep ...
I Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep ...
Now Say nay, Man dry man, Dry lover mine The deadrock base and blow the flowered anchor, Should he, for ...
The wanton Troopers riding by Have shot my Faun and it will dye. Ungentle men! They cannot thrive To kill ...
On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk ...
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