The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson ... (Google eBook)

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J. R. Osgood & Company, 1872 - 474 pages
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Page 82 - 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 gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides: and tho...
Page 85 - For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be ; Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails, Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales ; Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'da ghastly dew From the nations...
Page 83 - Tho' much is taken, much abides ; and tho' We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven ; that which we are, we are ; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Page 82 - Death closes all : but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
Page 226 - I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling ; And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel, With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel, And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river ; For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Page 111 - BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad. That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will...
Page 58 - 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 That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Page 18 - Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay ; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott. Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right The leaves upon her falling light Thro...
Page 54 - Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: "The sequel of today unsolders all The goodliest fellowship of famous knights Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep They sleep the men I loved. I think that we Shall never more, at any future time, Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, Walking about the gardens and the halls Of Camelot, as in the days that were. I perish by this people which I made Tho...
Page 82 - A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Most blameless is he. centred in the sphere Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay , Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. There lies the port: the vessel puffs her sail: There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners...

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