Lord Alfred Tennyson

'Tis gone: a thousand such have slipt
Away from my embraces:
And fallen into the dusty crypt
read more

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

Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens?
If all the world were falcons, what of that?
read more

Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens?
If all the world were falcons, what of that?
The wonder of the eagle were the less,
But he not less the eagle.

And a million horrible bellowing echoes broke
From the red-ribb'd hollow behind the wood,
And thunder'd up read more

And a million horrible bellowing echoes broke
From the red-ribb'd hollow behind the wood,
And thunder'd up into Heaven.

He makes no friend who never made a foe.

He makes no friend who never made a foe.

Ah! well away!
Seasons flower and fade.

Ah! well away!
Seasons flower and fade.