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" 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.... "
The works of Tennyson. Sch. ed - Page 110
by Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1884
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The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal, Volume 213

1911 - 592 pages
...windblown fens, are for him as full of the intuition of divine presences as the consecrated shrine where ' Three angels bear the holy Grail, With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they Bail.' Yet, harmonious as the ' bodily seeming,' and the inner mind of the poem may be, it is likewise...
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Poems, Volume 2

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1842 - 250 pages
...; I leap on board : no helmsman steers: I float til l all is dark. A gentle sound, an awful light ! Three angels bear the holy Grail: With folded feet,...glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars. v. When on my goodly charger borne The tempest crackles on the leads, And, ringing, spins from brand...
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Poems, Volume 2

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1842 - 252 pages
...beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars. T. When on my goodly charger borne Thro' dreaming towns I go, The cock crows ere the Christmas morn, The tempest crackles on the leads, And, ringing, spins from brand and mail ; But o'er the dark a glory...
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Poems, Volume 2

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1843 - 256 pages
...; 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,...glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars. v. When on my goodly charger borne Thro' dreaming towns I go, The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,...
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Poems

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1845 - 510 pages
...: no helmsman steers : I float till all is dark. A gentle sound, an awful light ! Three angels hear the holy Grail : With folded feet, in stoles of white,...glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars. Y. When on my goodly charger borne Thro' dreaming towns I go, The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,...
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The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - Authors, English - 1845 - 558 pages
...I leap on boarrl : no helmsman steers : I float till all is dark. A gentle sound, an awful light ! Three angels bear the holy grail : With folded feet,...vision ! blood of God ! My spirit beats her mortal barg, As down dark tides the glory slides, And, star-like, mingles with the stars. When on my goodly...
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The Methodist new connexion magazine and evangelical repository, Volume 79

1876 - 818 pages
...yearn to breathe the airs of heaven . That often meet me here : — A gentle sound, an awful light ! Three angels bear the Holy Grail : With folded feet...wings they sail. Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God 1 My spirit beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with...
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The Poets and Poetry of England: In the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - Authors, English - 1846 - 540 pages
...dark. A gentle sound, an awful light ! Three angels bear the holy grail : With folded feet, in stoies of white, On sleeping wings they sail. Ah, blessed...mingles with the stars. When on my goodly charger borne Through dreaming towns I go, The cock crows ere the Christmas mom, The streets are dumb with snow....
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Poems, Volume 2

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - English poetry - 1846 - 254 pages
...dark. A gentle sound, an awful light ! Three angels bear the holy Grail : With folded feet, in stoics of white, On sleeping wings they sail. Ah, blessed...glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars. v. When on my goodly charger borne Thro' dreaming towns I go, The tempest crackles on the leads, And,...
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Poems, Volume 2

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1846 - 252 pages
...beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars. v. When on my goodly charger borne Thro' dreaming towns I go, The tempest crackles on the leads, And, ringing, spins from brand and mail ; But o'er the dark a glory...
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