The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson: Poet Laureate, Etc, Volume 1

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Page 192 - For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see — Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be ; Saw the heavens...
Page 129 - Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — And on a sudden, lo ! the level lake, And the long glories of the winter moon.
Page 183 - Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vext the dim sea : I am become a name ; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known ; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but...
Page 131 - 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.
Page 184 - Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
Page 293 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory, Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 126 - What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?' And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : ' I heard the water lapping on the crag, And the long ripple washing in the reeds.
Page 196 - Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range, Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change. Thro...
Page 185 - Pleiads, rising through the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid. Here about the beach I wandered, nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of time...
Page 131 - Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow. Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.

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