Lord Alfred Tennyson

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
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The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices.

Gone--flitted away,
Taken the stars from the night and the sun
From the day!
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Gone--flitted away,
Taken the stars from the night and the sun
From the day!
Gone, and a cloud in my heart.

Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go read more

Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go on for ever. - The Brook.

When rosy plumelets tuft the larch,
And rarely pipes the mounted thrush.

When rosy plumelets tuft the larch,
And rarely pipes the mounted thrush.