Lord Alfred Tennyson

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.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow.

To pluck the vicious quitch
Of blood and custom wholly out of him,
And make all clean read more

To pluck the vicious quitch
Of blood and custom wholly out of him,
And make all clean and plant himself afresh.

And out of darkness came the hands
That reach thro' nature, moulding men.

And out of darkness came the hands
That reach thro' nature, moulding men.

Give place to your superiors.

Give place to your superiors.