The Works of Alfred Lord Tennyson (Google eBook)

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Macmillan, 1886 - 640 pages
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Page 96 - Death closes all : but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks : The long day wanes : the slow moon climbs : the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows ; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the...
Page 95 - ULYSSES. IT little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel : I will drink Life to the lees : all times I have enjoy'd Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone ; on shore, and when Thro...
Page 222 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade ! Charge for the guns," he said : Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Page 278 - Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause. And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in. Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring...
Page 462 - The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils Himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself : what comfort is in me ? I have lived my life, and that which I have done May He within Himself make pure ! but thou, If thou should'st never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats...
Page 277 - RING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light : The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more ; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife ;...
Page 70 - Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon, And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, Seen where the moving isles of winter shock By night, with noises of the northern sea. So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur : But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, And caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him Three times, and drew him under in the mere. And lightly went the other to the King. Then spoke King...
Page 261 - Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last far off at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. So runs my dream : but what am I ? An infant crying in the night : An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.
Page 301 - There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear ; She is coming, my life, my fate ; The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near" ; And the white rose weeps, " She is late" ; The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear " ; And the lily whispers, " I wait." She is coming, my own, my sweet ; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed ; My dust would hear her and beat, Had I lain for a century dead ;...
Page 186 - THE splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

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