Maxioms by Lord Alfred Tennyson
Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity:
The deep air listen'd round her as she rode,
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Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity:
The deep air listen'd round her as she rode,
And all the low wind hardly breathed for fear.
I give not gold for mere expectations.
I give not gold for mere expectations.
And out of darkness came the hands
That reach thro' nature, moulding men.
And out of darkness came the hands
That reach thro' nature, moulding men.
'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.
