The Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson ...

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Estes and Lauriat, 1895
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175 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.
88 psl. - I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods : I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time...
53 psl. - Thou wilt not leave us in the dust: Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die; And thou hast made him: thou art just.
120 psl. - So careful of the type ?' but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, 'A thousand types are gone : I care for nothing, all shall go. '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.
54 psl. - Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be; They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
56 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.
119 psl. - I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope through darkness up to God. I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope. And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.
172 psl. - For underfoot the herb was dry ; And genial warmth ; and o'er the sky The silvery haze of summer drawn ; And calm that let the tapers burn Unwavering : not a cricket...
128 psl. - Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, And grasps the skirts of happy chance, And breasts the blows of circumstance, And grapples with his evil star ; Who makes by force his merit known And lives to clutch the golden keys, To mould a mighty state's decrees, And shape the whisper of the throne ; And moving up from high to higher, Becomes on Fortune's crowning slope The pillar of a people's hope, The center of a world's desire ; Vet feels, as in a pensive dream.
191 psl. - Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.

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