Lord Alfred Tennyson

Ring out, will bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light.

Ring out, will bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light.

And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.

And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.

O well for him whose will is strong,
He suffers, but he will not suffer long.

O well for him whose will is strong,
He suffers, but he will not suffer long.

The time draws near the birth of Christ:
The moon is hid; the night is still;
The read more

The time draws near the birth of Christ:
The moon is hid; the night is still;
The Christmas bells from hill to hill
Answer each other in the mist.

. . . but while
I breathe Heaven's air, and Heaven looks down on me,
And smiles read more

. . . but while
I breathe Heaven's air, and Heaven looks down on me,
And smiles at my best meanings, I remain
Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.