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" And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast : There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made. "
The Royal Lady's Magazine - Page 79
1834
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Countries of the Mind: Essays in Literary Criticism. 2d Ser

John Middleton Murry - Literature - 1922 - 272 pages
...Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dressed And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast: 86 There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade The ground now sacred by thy reliques made . . .* The...
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Come Hither: A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of All ..., Volume 1

American poetry - 1923 - 748 pages
...close confined to their own palace, sleep. . . . Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dressed, And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast: There...bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow ; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade The ground, now sacred by thy relics made. So peaceful...
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The Poems of Alexander Pope: A One-volume Edition of the Twickenham Text ...

Alexander Pope - Poetry - 1963 - 884 pages
...allow thee room, Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb ? Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be drest, And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast...: There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, 65 There the first roses of the year shall blow ; While Angels with their silver wings o'ershade The...
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Alexander Pope

Yasmine Gooneratne - Literary Criticism - 1976 - 164 pages
...itself) the ordinary earth in which she lies: Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be drest, 63 And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast: There...bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While Angels with their silver wings o'ershade The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made. The 'natural'...
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Selected Poetry

Alexander Pope - Poetry - 1998 - 260 pages
...muttered o'er thy tomb? Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dressed, And the green turf lie lighdy on thy breast: There shall the morn her earliest tears...bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade The ground, now sacred by thy relics made. So peaceful...
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