Lord Alfred Tennyson

The net is not spread for the hawk or the kite.

The net is not spread for the hawk or the kite.

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.

There lives more faith in honest doubt,
Believe me, than in half the creeds.

There lives more faith in honest doubt,
Believe me, than in half the creeds.

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.

He who says what he likes, must hear what he does not like.

He who says what he likes, must hear what he does not like.