The Poetical Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson: (poet Laureate) from the Author's Text, 2 tomas

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Thomas Y. Crowell & Company, 1885 - 933 psl.
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511 psl. - Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds, At last he beat his music out. There lives more faith in honest doubt, Believe me, than in half the creeds.
496 psl. - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
480 psl. - I HELD it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on steppingstones Of their dead selves to higher things.
480 psl. - STRONG Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove; Thine are these orbs of light and shade; Thou madest Life in man and brute; Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot Is on the skull which thou hast made.
496 psl. - Thou makest thine appeal to me : I bring to life, I bring to death : The spirit does but mean the breath : I know no more.
520 psl. - Nor thro' the questions men may try, The petty cobwebs we have spun : If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep, I heard a voice ' believe no more ' And heard an ever-breaking shore That tumbled in the Godless deep ; A warmth within the breast would melt The freezing reason's colder part, And like a man in wrath the heart Stood up and answer'd
519 psl. - They say, The solid earth whereon we tread In tracts of fluent heat began, And grew to seeming-random forms, The seeming prey of cyclic storms, Till at the last arose the man...
520 psl. - There rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen ! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands ; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.
522 psl. - Tho' mixt with God and Nature thou, I seem to love thee more and more. Far off thou art, but ever nigh ; I have thee still, and I rejoice ; I prosper, circled with thy voice ; I shall not lose thee tho
560 psl. - So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day, Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven ; But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land Very carefully and slow, Men of Bideford in Devon, And we laid them on the ballast down below: For we brought them all aboard, And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain, To the thumb-screw and the stake, for the glory of the Lord.

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