Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet! Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet; Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809 - 1892)
Source: To J. S.
Contributed by: Zaady
So dear a life your arms enfold, Whose crying is a cry for gold.
Source: Stanza 24.
Sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moan of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Source: Part vii. Line 203.
That tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew.
Source: Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Stanza 4.
The long mechanic pacings to and fro, The set, gray life, and apathetic end.
Source: Love and Duty.
Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts; Or all the same as if he had not been?
Oh good gray head which all men knew!
Read my little fable: He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.
Source: The Flower.
Rich in saving common-sense, And, as the greatest only are, In his simplicity sublime.
Jewels five-words-long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.
Source: Part ii. Line 355.
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