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" As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard... "
Translations [of poems, in various languages] by lord Lyttelton and W.E ... - Page 76
1863
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Primer First (-Fourth, Sixth) reader

Public school series - 1874
...How dull it is to pause, to make an end, Plains of Troy. To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were...one to me Little remains : but every hour is saved '^rom that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things ; and vile it were For some three...
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Parnassus

Ralph Waldo Emerson - American poetry - 1875 - 534 pages
...move. How dull it is to panse, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all...silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vilo it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire...
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Tennyson's Complete Works: (Including Queen Mary)

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1876
...ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnisVd, not to shine in use! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on (life...to me Little remains : but every hour is saved From tliat eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; an'd vile it were For some three suns...
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Poems of Places Oceana 1 V.; England 4; Scotland 3 V: Iceland ..., Volume 31

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - 1879
...when I move. How dull it is to panse, to make an en<I To rust unburnished, not to shine in As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains : bnt every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things ; and...
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The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - English poetry - 1877 - 409 pages
...dnll it is to panse, to make an end, To rnst nnl'ana-ifil. not to shine in nse ! As tho' to hreathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remaius : hnt every honr is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A hringer of new things...
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The poetical works of Alfred Tennyson. [Vol.8,9 are of the 1878 ed. With ...

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1879
...an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on lilc Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains...saved From that eternal silence, something more. A brin;j?r of new things ; and vile it were For some three suns to store and board myself, And this gray...
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The secret of success; or, How to get on in the world

William Henry Davenport Adams - 1880
...Whittier. " How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all...silence, something more, A bringer of new things." — Tennyson. " Thrift of time will repay you in after-life with a usury of profit beyond your most...
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Parnassus

Ralph Waldo Emerson - American poetry - 1880 - 534 pages
...move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all...saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringor of new things ; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray...
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Masterpieces of English Literature: Being Typical Selections of British and ...

William Swinton - American literature - 1880 - 638 pages
...move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me 25 Little remains ; but every hour is saved From that eternal silence — something more, A bringer...
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The Cornhill Magazine, Volumes 42-43

William Makepeace Thackeray - Electronic journals - 1880
...suffered— greatly both with those That lov'd me and alone. . . , How dull it is to pause, to make an end ! And vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this grey spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge. There lies the port : the vessel puffs her rail....
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