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Arthur beauty blow born break child close comes criticism dark dead Dear death deep died dream dying earth English eyes face fair faith fall fight fire flowers follow give glory golden half Hallam hand happy hear heard heart hills hope hour human Italy King knew Lady land light lines live Lord lost mean Memoir mind moon morning mother moved Nature never night once pass poem poet rest rose round seem'd seems ship side sleep song soul sound spirit stanza stars strange summer sweet tears tell Tennyson thee things thou thought thro took true verse voice whole wind young
xxii psl. - I was confirmed in this opinion, that he, who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem...
72 psl. - And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt; For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks, Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work Of subtlest jewellery.
167 psl. - We have but faith : we cannot know; For knowledge is of things we see ; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness : let it grow. Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
81 psl. - More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
131 psl. - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
100 psl. - Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoy'd Greatly, have suffer'd greatly , both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when Thro...
182 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 destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
47 psl. - All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past. Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war with evil? Is there any peace In ever climbing up the climbing wave? All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave In silence ; ripen, fall and cease : Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.