Lord Alfred Tennyson ( 10 of 98 )
I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men read more
I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men may rise on stepping stones
Or their dead selves to higher things.
And every dew-drop paints a bow.
And every dew-drop paints a bow.
And statesmen at her council met
Who knew the seasons when to take
Occasion by the hand, read more
And statesmen at her council met
Who knew the seasons when to take
Occasion by the hand, and make
The bounds of freedom wider yet.
Ring out, will bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light.
Ring out, will bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light.
Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
And so the Word had breath, and wrought
With human hands the creed of creeds
In loveliness read more
And so the Word had breath, and wrought
With human hands the creed of creeds
In loveliness of perfect deeds,
More strong than all poetic thoughts;
Which he may read that binds the sheaf,
Or builds the house, or digs the grave,
And those wild eyes that watch the waves
In roarings round the coral reef.
An' I thowt 'twur the will o' the Lord, but Miss Annie she said
it wur draains,
For read more
An' I thowt 'twur the will o' the Lord, but Miss Annie she said
it wur draains,
For she hedn't naw coomfut in 'er, an' arn'd naw thanks fur 'er
paains.
First pledge our Queen this solemn night,
Then drink to England, every guest;
That man's the best read more
First pledge our Queen this solemn night,
Then drink to England, every guest;
That man's the best Cosmopolite
Who knows his native country best.
I heard . . .
. . . the great echo flap
And buffet round the hills read more
I heard . . .
. . . the great echo flap
And buffet round the hills from bluff to bluff.
When rosy plumelets tuft the larch,
And rarely pipes the mounted thrush.
When rosy plumelets tuft the larch,
And rarely pipes the mounted thrush.
