Lord Alfred Tennyson

That loss is common would not make
My own less bitter, rather more:
Too common! Never morning read more

That loss is common would not make
My own less bitter, rather more:
Too common! Never morning wore
To evening, but some heart did break.

Broad-based upon her people's will,
And compassed by the inviolate sea.

Broad-based upon her people's will,
And compassed by the inviolate sea.

Better not to be at all
Than not to be noble.

Better not to be at all
Than not to be noble.

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, read more

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.