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Thomas Hood

The Deathbed

WE watch’d her breathing thro’ the night,
    Her breathing soft and low,
As in her breast the wave of life
    Kept heaving to and fro.

But when the morn came dim and sad
    And chill with early showers,
Her quiet eyelids closed—she had
    Another morn than ours.

 
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About the poet
Thomas Hood
 
By the same poet
The Bridge of Sighs
Autumn
Silence
Death
Fair Ines
Time of Roses
Ruth
 
Related books
Thomas Hood at amazon.com


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