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HOME > Biographical > The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood > Sonnet. Death.
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Sonnet. Death.
It is not death, that sometime in a sigh

This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight;

That sometime these bright stars, that now reply

In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night;

That warm conscious flesh shall perish quite,

And all life’s ruddy springs forget to flow;

That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite<............
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