 As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains : but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things ; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard...  The Poems of Alred Tennyson, 1830-1863 - 175 psl.autoriai: Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1906 - 601 psl.Visos knygos peržiūra - Apie šią knygą
 | 1881 - 622 psl.
...when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were...but every hour is saved From that eternal silence.' All these, it is plain, are not individual thoughts and sentiments. They are what, under the required... | |
 | Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1842 - 252 psl.
...when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were...sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved of me,... | |
 | Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1843 - 256 psl.
...when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were...sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — . Well-loved of me,... | |
 | 1844 - 714 psl.
...world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were...sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved of me,... | |
 | Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1845 - 510 psl.
...when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life •...sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved of me,... | |
 | 1845 - 732 psl.
...when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho" to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were...sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — 1845.] [July, Well... | |
 | Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1846 - 254 psl.
...when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life ! Were...star, . Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved of me,... | |
 | Edwin Percy Whipple - 1848 - 372 psl.
...when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unbumish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were...sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought, This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well loved of me,... | |
 | Edwin Percy Whipple - 1851 - 434 psl.
...move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all...sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well loved of me,... | |
 | Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1851 - 300 psl.
...move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all...bringer of new things ; and vile it were For some three sums to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge, like a... | |
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