The Poetry of Tennyson

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Mathews and Lane, 1891 - 376 pages
 

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Page 70 - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt...
Page 85 - For woman is not undevelopt man, But diverse : could we make her as the man, Sweet Love were slain : his dearest bond is this. Not like to like, but like in difference. Yet in the long years liker must they grow ; The man be more of woman, she of man; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world ; She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto...
Page 62 - And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, Whilst the...
Page 119 - Happy he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay.
Page 189 - But now the whole Round Table is dissolved Which was an image of the mighty world; And I, the last, go forth companionless, And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.
Page 62 - To the ocean now I fly, And those happy climes that lie Where day never shuts his eye, Up in the broad fields of the sky.
Page 106 - Heaven is for thee too high To know what passes there : be lowly wise : Think only what concerns thee, and thy being : Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there Live, in what state, condition or degree ; Contented that thus far hath been reveal'd Not of earth only, but of highest heaven.
Page 298 - And up and down the people go. Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below. The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot.
Page 234 - The gardener Adam and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent. Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
Page 248 - Let — not — your — heart — be — troubled. In — my — Father's — house — are — many — mansions.

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