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MY hair is gray, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears : My limbs are bow'd, though not with toil, But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's spoil, And mine has been the fate...

The Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland - Sida 411
1879
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Types of Poetry: Exclusive of the Drama

Howard Judson Hall, John Robert Moore - 1931 - 576 sidor

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The Standard Book of British and American Verse

Nella Braddy Henney - 1932 - 808 sidor

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The Atlantic Monthly, Volym 91

1903 - 912 sidor

...the opening lines of The Prisoner of Chillón, — " My hair u gray, but not with yean, Nor grew it white In a single night. As men's have grown from sudden fears ; " and also Byron's "There let him lay! " which occurs in the famous address to the ocean, in Childe...

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