Lord Alfred Tennyson

A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair.

And o'er the hills, and far away Beyond their utmost purple rim, Beyond the night, across the day, Thro' all the world she follow'd him.

Broad based upon her people's will, And compassed by the inviolate sea.

But oh for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!

Some one had blunder'd: Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die.

That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.

Though thou wert scattered to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind.

Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control,- These three alone lead life to sovereign power.

Her eyes are homes of silent prayers.

Do we indeed desire the dead Should still be near us at our side ? Is there no baseness we would hide ? No inner vileness that we dread ? How many a father have I seen A sober man, among his boys Whose youth was full of foolish noise.