Lord Alfred Tennyson

And oft I heard the tender dove
In firry woodlands making moan.

And oft I heard the tender dove
In firry woodlands making moan.

Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every people sphere?
Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword read more

Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every people sphere?
Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword "Evolution" here.

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill.

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill.

'Tis gone: a thousand such have slipt
Away from my embraces:
And fallen into the dusty crypt
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'Tis gone: a thousand such have slipt
Away from my embraces:
And fallen into the dusty crypt
Of darken'd forms and faces.

Darker than darkest pansies.

Darker than darkest pansies.