Lord Alfred Tennyson

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel
force,
Something better than his dog, read more

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel
force,
Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.

This is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrow's crown of sorrows is remembering happier things.

This is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrow's crown of sorrows is remembering happier things.

A life of nothing's nothing worth,
From that first nothing ere his birth,
To that last nothing read more

A life of nothing's nothing worth,
From that first nothing ere his birth,
To that last nothing under earth.

He who says what he likes, must hear what he does not like.

He who says what he likes, must hear what he does not like.

We keep the day. With festal cheer,
With books and music, surely we
Will drink to him, read more

We keep the day. With festal cheer,
With books and music, surely we
Will drink to him, whate'er he be,
And sing the songs he loved to hear.