Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 28, 2025
With what agony of grief did I hang over the body! with what bitter tears did I wash the clay-cold face, so beautiful, so angelic in its repose! In the morning, I dug her grave; and cleansing my hands, which were bleeding, from the task, returned to the corpse, and bore it, in its nun's attire, to the receptacle which I had prepared.
But ere the curtain be for ever dropped, or remembrance leave this tortured breast, let me take this last and solemn leave of one with whom I have passed so many social and instructive hours, whose conversation I fondly cultivated, and whose friendship for me I hope will remain, even after the clay-cold hand of death has closed my eyes in everlasting darkness.
True, Uraga and his lancers are still there in body, not in spirit. Their souls have gone, no one may know whither. Only their clay-cold forms remain, us left by the Rangers the common soldiers lying upon the grass, the two officers swinging side by side, from the trees, with broken necks, drooping heads, and limbs dangling down all alike corpses. Not for long do they stay unchanged untouched.
And he began to sing: It was the silent, solemn hour When night and morning meet, In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet. Her face was like an April morn Clad in a wintry cloud: And clay-cold was her lily hand, That held her sable shroud. The Author shaded his eyes with his hand, his gaze riveted upon the singer.
Gazing for the last time upon the clay-cold features of her departed husband, this young widow beautiful even in her grief; so ethereal to look upon, and yet so firm! looking for the last time upon the dear familiar face, now cold and still in death oh, looking for the last, last time she rapidly put on her bonnet, and thus addressed the sobbing gentlemen who were to act as pall-bearers: "You pall-bearers, just go into the buttery and get some rum, and we'll start this man right along!"
They raised her, and looked upon a clay-cold face. Her soul had fled. The Captain's Daughter Alexander Sergeyevitch Pushkin was born at Moscow on June 7, 1799. He came of an ancient family, a strange ancestor being a favourite negro ennobled by Peter the Great, who bequeathed to him a mass of curly hair and a somewhat darker skin than usually falls to the lot of the ordinary Russian.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking