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all not seek the skies.
Good sir, good doctor, go away;
To hear my sighs you must not stay,
For this my poor lost treasure:
I thank you for your pains and skill;
When next you come, pray bring your bill
I'll pay it; sir yilai:
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Geek Ma, with pleasure.
Ye friends who come to mourn her doom.
For God's sake gently tread the room,
Nor call her from the blessed--
In softest silence drop the tear [link widoczny dla zalogowanych],
In whispers breathe the fervent prayer,
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To bid her spirit rest.
Repress the sad, the wounding scream;
I can not bear a grief extreme--
Enough one little sigh--
Besides, the loud alarm of grief yilai:
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On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Published ccaafaoa,
In many a mind may start belief,
Our noise is all a lie.
Good nurses, shroud my lamb with care;
Her limbs, with gentlest fingers, spare,
Her mouth, ah! slowly close;
Her mouth a magic tongue that held--
Whose softest tone, at times, compelled
To peace my loudest woes.
And, carpenter, for my sad sake,
Of stoutest oak her coffin make--
I'd not be stingy [link widoczny dla zalogowanych] yilai:
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”
Studiously the three of us did not gla, sure--
Procure of steel the strongest screws [link widoczny dla zalogowanych],
For who could pal