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C.N. Douglas, comp.  Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical.  1917.
 
Sighs
 
  To sigh, yet feel no pain.
Moore.    
  1
  Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Gray.    
  2
        He sighed;—the next resource is the full moon,
Where all sighs are deposited; and now
It happen’d luckily, the chaste orb shone.
Byron.    
  3
  My soul has rest, sweet sigh! alone in thee.
Petrarch.    
  4
        Sped the soft intercourse from soul to soul
And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.
Pope.    
  5
                                Sighs
Which perfect Joy, perplexed for utterance,
Stole from her sister Sorrow.
Tennyson.    
  6
        But sighs subside, and tears (e’en widows’) shrink,
Like Arno in the summer, to a shallow
So narrow as to shame their wintry brink,
Which threatens inundations deep and yellow!
Such diff’rence do a few months make. You’d think
Grief a rich field that never would lie fallow;
No more it doth; its ploughs but change their boys,
Who furrow some new soil to sow for joys.
Byron.    
  7
        Yet sighes, deare sighes, indeede true friends you are
  That do not leave your left friend at the wurst,
  But, as you with my breast, I oft have nurst
So, gratefull now, you waite upon my care.
Sir Philip Sidney.    
  8
 
 
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