Alfred lord Tennyson: a memoir by his son (Google eBook)

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The Macmillan company, 1897
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Page 393 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Page 420 - SUNSET and evening star, And one clear call for me ! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark ; For tho...
Page 431 - On God and Godlike men we build our trust. Hush, the Dead March wails in the people's ears: The dark crowd moves, and there are sobs and tears: The black earth yawns: the mortal disappears; Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; He is gone who seem'd so great.
Page 289 - And husband nature's riches from expense; They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others but stewards of their excellence. The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die...
Page 475 - Again ! again ! again ! And the havoc did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back Their shots along the deep slowly boom : Then ceased — and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail, Or in conflagration pale Light the gloom.
Page 305 - It were good therefore that men in their innovations would follow the example of time itself, which indeed innovateth greatly, but quietly and by degrees scarce to be perceived...
Page 513 - 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 118 - But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near: And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
Page 501 - Let us roll all our strength and all Our sweetness up into one ball, And tear our pleasures with rough strife, Thorough the iron gates of life ; Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.
Page 483 - Light among the vanish'd ages; star that gildest yet this phantom shore; Golden branch amid the shadows, kings and realms that pass to rise no more ; Now thy Forum roars no longer, fallen every purple Caesar's dome — Tho...

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