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Unformatted text preview: Th’ attempt was vain—I only felt Intenser pangs and livelier grief. The bud of woe, no more represt, Fed by the tears that drenched it there, Shot forth and filled my labouring breast, Soon to expand and shed despair. p. 97 But though of Sayid I'm bereft, From whom the stream of bounty came, Sayid a nobler meed has left— Th’ exhaustless heritage of fame. Though mute the lips on which I hung, Their silence speaks more loud to me Than any voice from mortal tongue: "What Sayid was, let Malec be!"...
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- Spring '08
- World Literature, English-language films, Vaginal intraepithelial neoplasia, Sayid, thy grassy tomb, Sayid shares