A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, And sweet as English air could make her, she.
Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809 - 1892)
Source: Part i. Line 153.
Contributed by: Zaady
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean. Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Source: Line 21.
And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech.
Source: Memoriam, 1850, line 23,
As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
Source: Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere.
Though thou wert scattered to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind.
Source: The Two Voices, 1832
Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control,- These three alone lead life to sovereign power.
Her eyes are homes of silent prayers.
Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, Before a thousand peering littlenesses, In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, And blackens every blot.
Source: The Idylls of the King, The Dedication
Wearing all that weight Of learning lightly like a flower.
Source: Memoriam, 1850
That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies; 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.
Source: The Grandmother. Stanza 8.
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