Tennyson: His Art and Relation to Modern Life

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Putnam, 1894 - 516 pages

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Page 385 - 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 101 - Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a...
Page 162 - But follow ; let the torrent dance thee down To find him in the valley ; let the wild Lean-headed eagles yelp alone, and leave The monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke, That like a broken purpose waste in air. So waste not thou, but come ; for all the vales Await thee ; azure pillars of the hearth Arise to thee ; the children call, and I Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet ; Myriads of rivulets...
Page 407 - HE clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring'd with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Page 127 - We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven ; that which we are, we are ; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Page 249 - A shadow flits before me, Not thou, but like to thee: Ah Christ, that it were possible For one short hour to see...
Page 70 - THE poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above ; Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.
Page 125 - 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 383 - And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, A broken chancel with a broken cross, That stood on a dark strait of barren land. On one side lay the Ocean, and on one Lay a great water, and the moon was full.
Page 304 - In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours, Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers : Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all. " It is the little rift within the lute, That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.

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