Tennysoniana

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Pickering and Company, 1879 - 208 páginas
 

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Página 107 - Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Página 40 - Who will believe my verse in time to come If it were fill'd with your most high deserts? Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb Which hides your life and shows not half your parts. If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, "This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.
Página 48 - Farewell ! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate : The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ; My bonds in thee are all determinate.
Página 48 - The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ; My bonds in thee are all determinate.* For how do I hold thee but by thy granting ? And for that riches where is my deserving ? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting. And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou...
Página 50 - To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers...
Página 8 - Regret is dead, but love is more Than in the summers that are flown, For I myself with these have grown To something greater than before ; Which makes appear the songs I made As echoes out of weaker times, As half but idle brawling rhymes, The sport of random sun and shade.
Página 141 - As when a painter, poring on a face, Divinely thro' all hindrance finds the man Behind it, and so paints him that his face, The shape and colour of a mind and life, Lives for his children, ever at its best...
Página 69 - ... 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 myself...
Página 51 - Thro' four sweet years arose and fell, From flower to flower, from snow to snow: And we with singing cheer'd the way, And, crown'd with all the season lent, From April on to April went, And glad at heart from May to May: But where the path we...
Página 46 - No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell. Nay, if you read this line, remember not , The hand that writ it; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe.

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