The Complete Works of Alfred Tennyson1879 |
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¼Å¡Òäé¹ËÒ 1 - 5 ¨Ò¡ 83
˹éÒ 7
... mother plant in semblance , grew A flower all gold , And bravely furnish'd all abroad to fling The winged shafts of truth , To throng with stately blooms the breathing spring Of Hope and Youth . So many minds did gird their orbs with ...
... mother plant in semblance , grew A flower all gold , And bravely furnish'd all abroad to fling The winged shafts of truth , To throng with stately blooms the breathing spring Of Hope and Youth . So many minds did gird their orbs with ...
˹éÒ 14
... Mother , give me grace To help me of my weary load . " And on the liquid mirror glow'd The clear perfection of her face . " Is this the form , " she made her moan , " That won his praises night and morn ? " And " Ah , " she said , " but ...
... Mother , give me grace To help me of my weary load . " And on the liquid mirror glow'd The clear perfection of her face . " Is this the form , " she made her moan , " That won his praises night and morn ? " And " Ah , " she said , " but ...
˹éÒ 17
... mother thought , What ails the boy ? For I was altered and began To move about the house with joy , And with the certain step of man . I loved the brimming wave that swam " Thro ' quiet meadows round the mill , The sleepy pool above the ...
... mother thought , What ails the boy ? For I was altered and began To move about the house with joy , And with the certain step of man . I loved the brimming wave that swam " Thro ' quiet meadows round the mill , The sleepy pool above the ...
˹éÒ 19
... mother Ida , harken ere I die . For now the noonday quiet holds the hill : The grasshopper is silent in the grass : The lizard , with his shadow on the stone , Rests like a shadow , and the cicala sleeps . The purple flowers droop : the ...
... mother Ida , harken ere I die . For now the noonday quiet holds the hill : The grasshopper is silent in the grass : The lizard , with his shadow on the stone , Rests like a shadow , and the cicala sleeps . The purple flowers droop : the ...
˹éÒ 20
... mother Ida , hearken ere I die . On the tree - tops á crested peacock lit , And o'er him flow'd a golden cloud , and lean'd Upon him , slowly dropping fragrant dew , Then first I heard the voice of her , to whom Coming thro ' Heaven ...
... mother Ida , hearken ere I die . On the tree - tops á crested peacock lit , And o'er him flow'd a golden cloud , and lean'd Upon him , slowly dropping fragrant dew , Then first I heard the voice of her , to whom Coming thro ' Heaven ...
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answer'd arms Arthur ask'd blood breath Caerleon call'd Camelot child cried Dagonet dark dead dear death dream earth Edith England Enid ev'n evermore Excalibur eyes face fair father fear fire flower fool Gareth Gawain golden grace Guinevere hall hand happy Harold hast hate hath head hear heard heart heaven holy horse hour jousts King King Arthur kiss knew Lady Lady of Shalott Lancelot land Lavaine Leofwin light live look look'd Lord maiden Mary Merlin morn mother never night noble o'er once Philip Prince Queen rode rose round seem'd shadow shame Simon Renard Sir Bedivere Sir Lancelot Sir Pelleas sleep smile song soul Spain spake speak star stept Stigand stood sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought thro Tostig turn'd vext voice wild wind
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˹éÒ 360 - 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.
˹éÒ 65 - Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands ; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
˹éÒ 64 - Tho' much is taken, much abides ; and tho' 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.
˹éÒ 149 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleep".
˹éÒ 66 - Yearning for the large excitement that the coming years would yield, Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father's field, And at night along the dusky highway near and nearer drawn, Sees in heaven the light of London flaring like a dreary dawn ; And his spirit leaps within him to be gone before him then, Underneath the light he looks at, in among the throngs of men...
˹éÒ 131 - Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite ; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. 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.
˹éÒ 232 - Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet — Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.
˹éÒ 177 - Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine, Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice, That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls To roll the torrent out of dusky doors : 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...
˹éÒ 15 - PART II There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colors gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott. And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear.
˹éÒ 32 - With half-dropt eyelids still, Beneath a heaven dark and holy, To watch the long bright river drawing slowly His waters from the purple hill— To hear the dewy echoes calling From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine— To watch the emerald-colour'd water falling Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!