The works of Tennyson. Sch. ed, Volume 1 |
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Page 4
... grave Was deep , my mother , in the clay ? Myself ? Is it thus ? Myself ? Had I So little love for thee ? But why Prevail'd not thy pure prayers ? Why pray To one who heeds not , who can save But will not ? Great in faith , and strong ...
... grave Was deep , my mother , in the clay ? Myself ? Is it thus ? Myself ? Had I So little love for thee ? But why Prevail'd not thy pure prayers ? Why pray To one who heeds not , who can save But will not ? Great in faith , and strong ...
Page 13
... grave i ' the earth so chilly ; Heavily hangs the hollyhock , Heavily hangs the tiger - lily . A CHARACTER . WITH a half - glance upon the sky At night he said , ' The wanderings Of this most intricate Universe Teach me the nothingness ...
... grave i ' the earth so chilly ; Heavily hangs the hollyhock , Heavily hangs the tiger - lily . A CHARACTER . WITH a half - glance upon the sky At night he said , ' The wanderings Of this most intricate Universe Teach me the nothingness ...
Page 16
... thy breast , Fold thine arms , turn to thy rest . Let them rave . Shadows of the silver birk Sweep the green that folds thy grave . Let them rave . II . Thee nor carketh care nor slander ; Nothing 16 THE DYING SWAN - A DIRGE .
... thy breast , Fold thine arms , turn to thy rest . Let them rave . Shadows of the silver birk Sweep the green that folds thy grave . Let them rave . II . Thee nor carketh care nor slander ; Nothing 16 THE DYING SWAN - A DIRGE .
Page 17
... grave . Let them rave . III . Thou wilt not turn upon thy bed ; Chaunteth not the brooding bee Sweeter tones than calumny ? Let them rave . Thou wilt never raise thine head From the green that folds thy grave . Let them rave . IV ...
... grave . Let them rave . III . Thou wilt not turn upon thy bed ; Chaunteth not the brooding bee Sweeter tones than calumny ? Let them rave . Thou wilt never raise thine head From the green that folds thy grave . Let them rave . IV ...
Page 19
... graves grass - green beside a gray church - tower , Wash'd with still rains and daisy blos- somed ; Two children in one hamlet born and bred ; So runs the round of life from hour to hour . THE MERMAN . I. WHO would be A merman bold ...
... graves grass - green beside a gray church - tower , Wash'd with still rains and daisy blos- somed ; Two children in one hamlet born and bred ; So runs the round of life from hour to hour . THE MERMAN . I. WHO would be A merman bold ...
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Common terms and phrases
answer'd beneath betwixt blood blow breast breath brow Camelot cheek Clara Vere cloud crested bird dark dead Dear mother Ida death deep dipt door Dora dream earth EDWIN MORRIS Enone evermore Excalibur eyes face fair fall floating flowers fluttering tongues folded foolish song forlorn gleaming gold dagger golden grave green hand happy harken ere hath hear heard heart Heaven hills hour King Arthur kiss kiss'd knew Lady of Shalott land last embrace light lips live Locksley Hall look look'd Lord mind moon morn never night o'er Oriana Queen roll'd rose round scorn seem'd shadow shining silent sing Sir Bedivere sleep slowly smile song soul sound spake speak spirit stars stept stood summer sweet tears thee thine things thought thro turn'd unto Vere de Vere voice weary weep whisper wild wind words
Popular passages
Page 8 - He cometh not,' she said ; She said, ' I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead...
Page 72 - 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 71 - Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go ? Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes ? For now I see the true old times are dead, When every morning brought a noble chance, And every chance brought out a noble knight.
Page 51 - Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest merriest day; For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o
Page 97 - Shines in those tremulous eyes that fill with tears To hear me ? Let me go : take back thy gift : "Why should a man desire in any way To vary from the kindly race of men, Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance, Where all should pause, as is most meet for all ? A soft air fans the cloud apart ; there comes A glimpse of that dark world where I was born. Once more the old mysterious glimmer steals From thy pure brows and from thy shoulders pure And bosom beating with a heart renewed. Thy cheek begins...
Page 102 - I was left a trampled orphan, and a selfish uncle's ward. Or to burst all links of habit — there to wander far away, On from island unto island at ,the gateways of the day. Larger constellations burning, mellow moons and happy skies, Breadths of tropic shade and palms in cluster, knots of Paradise.
Page 69 - Came on the shining levels of the lake. There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt : For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks, Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work Of subtlest jewellery.
Page 69 - Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily: "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 72 - So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some fullbreasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere Revolving many memories, till the hull Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, And on the mere the wailing died away.
Page 110 - Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark; I leap on board, no helmsman steers, I float till all is dark. A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the holy Grail: With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail. Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God ! My spirit beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars.