Lord Alfred Tennyson

And grasps the skirts of happy chance,
And breasts the blows of circumstance.

And grasps the skirts of happy chance,
And breasts the blows of circumstance.

I give not gold for mere expectations.

I give not gold for mere expectations.

Modred's narrow foxy face,
Heart hiding smile, and gray persistent eye.

Modred's narrow foxy face,
Heart hiding smile, and gray persistent eye.

The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of a man,
And the man said, "Am read more

The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of a man,
And the man said, "Am I your debtor?"
And the Lord--"Not yet: but make it as clean as you can,
And then I will let you a better."

In that fierce light which beats upon a throne.

In that fierce light which beats upon a throne.